


Don't Stand So Close

by AnnaRow



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, If you can watch Shameless you can read this fic, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Sneaking Around, canon-typical violence and slurs, fight/fuck, questionable power dynamic, sort of a HS fic?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaRow/pseuds/AnnaRow
Summary: Ian has received help for his bipolar disorder after his stint in the Army and is determined to get his life back on track. Mickey finds the generosity of a bleeding-heart social worker an easy target for a long con. Both end up in one place they never would have expected: Bernardo Francisco Academy. Ian takes the only job he can get, never expecting it would land him so close to someone he has only ever known from a distance.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 85
Kudos: 81





	1. Brittany Sturgess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheels they are a turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: this is my first gallavich fic. Long time reader, first time poster. I had to get a little creative with their ages to make this work. Ian's birthday is known to be in May while Mickey's is known to be in August. So for the reasoning of this fic, they are 9 months apart with Ian being a young 17 and Mickey an old 17. This would make sense with Ian and Mandy being one grade below Mickey as the school year cut off is right between their birthdays. Mostly canon-ish - Ian fake dated Mandy, he never hooked up with Mickey. 
> 
> Also this is un-beta'd. Mostly because I don't know any other fans.

“Milkovich…?”

“Yes.”

“Mikhailo Milkovich?” The middle aged woman in a beige pant suit asked as she sat at her desk over-piled with files. 

“Yes.” Brittany Sturgess, the new, young, and passionate social worker insisted. 

The seasoned woman across the desk from her sighed heavily as she flipped through the file. “Robbery, robbery, assault and battery, fraud…” The woman squinted at some of the words in the file, “…possibly ran someone over with a car.”

“Never proven.” Sturgess said quickly to her boss and mentor Alice Anderson. “I know that it’s quite a pick. I do. But if you look at the other files…” She pulled out files for Terry Milkovich, Colin Milkovich, and other known Milkovichs. “This is an abuse pattern within this family, they breed criminals and will continue to breed criminals. Isn’t our job all about breaking the cycle?”

Alice sighed. “Yes but you have to be able to weigh the risk-benefit analysis. I know you are still very passionate about this job. I know why you went into it- to help people. For the same reason I did 30 years ago… but Brittany. What makes you think a kid like this could even break out of a cycle like that? Wasting a valuable opportunity like this on a… Milkovich.”

“I was assigned to his case after he was released from juvenile detention. I poured over his file. Then I moved onto his father’s.” Brittany’s eyes locked with Alice. “This man is tormenting these children. All of Mikhailo’s indiscretions correspond with one of his father’s. He and his sister are the youngest in the household. She has no record, seems to do well enough in school. If we can get help him onto the right path and give him a chance… maybe we can stop the ever-growing Milkovich crime family at him.”

Alice groaned, clearly moved but not fully convinced. 

“Fine. Send in the application. These programs usually only have about 5 slots available with over 500 applicants. The odds of them wanting someone like this is very low… but… if it will make your bleeding-heart bleed less, go for it.”

Brittany lit up happily. She had worked so hard to find this program and unbeknownst to Alice already had paperwork written up.

“What if they pick him? You’ll have to convince him to go. If you pull this off…”

“We’d be legends.” Brittany chirped up. “Alice… if we could turn a Milkovich… they'd… they’d…” she threw her hands up dramatically. “They’d name this whole damn building after us.”

“And if it fails?” Alice asked challengingly. 

“Then… nothing. He’d just prove everyone right. Everyone would be convinced of what they’ve always believed - that Milkovichs are doomed cases.”

* * *

Ian Gallagher sat at the kitchen table of the Southside Gallagher home staring at his old laptop screen. He had been sitting here for over an hour pouring over job hiring site after site. Why couldn’t there be just one? 

“Any luck?” Fiona asked startling Ian out of the meditative state that the white screen with black text had lulled him into. She sat down next to him with a cup of coffee to offer.

“Sort of. I found a few positions that may not immediately turn me away. A warehouse job… an office job… eh scratch that, actually. A physical education job. I’ll apply to them Fi but…” Fiona knew what he was about to say so she stopped him. 

“Ian. You’ve done a lot work this year. You’ve been through a lot more than most people can handle. And you survived it. Just apply. You never know and worst case scenario Kev will hire you at The Alibi… he’s already offered.”

After stealing his brother’s ID and enrolling in the military, going AWOL, crashing a helicopter, going on the run, then spiraling into a manic episode thanks to the genetics of his mother - it was safe to say Ian was feeling hopeless. Sure he got help, saw a therapist, was on a cocktail of meds that seemed to even him out long enough to get a GED during the spring. Though for as long as he could remember he had worked hard, obsessed over the military, was on track to get out of the Southside and maybe make something of himself. Then something he had no control over, genetics that had tormented his family their entire lives took that all away. Ian felt as if he had ruined everything. Wasted everything. 

“I’ll take him up on it if I need to. I just want to…’

“The military won’t take you back, Ian.”

Ian groaned tilting back, he had heard all of this before, multiple times, all from Fiona. “I know.”

“You need to let that go.”

“I know… I just don’t want to waste the skills I’ve spent an entire lifetime building.”

Fi was sympathetic, she was, but she also knew that hanging onto dreams that were dead wasn’t going to help him move on and start his life. 

“Apply.” She stood and leaned over kissing the top of his head. “Apply and make sure that you use your shitty home life as a heartstring tugger in your cover letter.”

About 30 minutes later across town at the Chicago Polytechnic Institute Lip’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He was sitting at his desk wrapping up his last term paper of the semester and was desperate for a distraction. Checking his phone he saw it was from Ian.

_Ian: Any interest in writing up a cover letter that subtly but effectively highlights our impoverished life as street urchins in the Southside of Chicago?_

Lip smirked, his specialty. 

_Lip: Give me 10 minutes, I’ll send it to your email._

* * *

6 _Weeks Later_

The Department of Social Services was not a place most people considered interesting or even amusing. The sea of cubicles and desks gave the entire department a color scheme of browns, beiges, and white. Desk after desk had more files in the in-box than the out-box. Civil servant after civil servant looked haggard, exhausted, and as if their souls had been sucked out by a vampire that came every 15 years to reap it’s rewards from those with any spark left in them. The most fascinating thing that ever occurred there was interoffice drama about how much everyone hated Shelley from finance. It was why when a gleeful scream ripped through the air every head turned to the young, fresh-faced Brittany Sturgess. 

Not noticing the attention she had pulled she jumped up from her desk and walked quickly to her boss’s office grinning ear to ear. She knocked hastily until she heard from the other side. Walking in she slammed a piece of paper down on her bosses desk. 

“He got it. Mikhailo Milkovich was just approved for one of the 5 Underprivileged Youth Fast Track programs at Bernardo Francisco Academy.” Brittany jumped excitingly in her Macy’s brand closed toed flats. 

Alice was shocked. She didn’t think a school like that would take someone with the background of a Milkovich. “Holy shit.”

“Right?!” Brittany felt like she was finally going to be able to make a difference in someone’s life. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Alice cocked an eyebrow knowing she was about to rain all over this young woman’s parade. “You get the pleasure of going to the Milkovich resident and announcing the great news.”

Brittany’s face paled, her excitement immediately sucked out of her. 

“Oh… can’t we just call?”

“No Milkovich seems to have a working number for more than 3 months.”

Brittany was a little loss. “So that means no e…”

“Sure as hell means no email address.” Alice interrupted. 

Brittany nodded her head, bringing her hands up to slick back any hair that has escaped her pony tail. 

“Alright, I can do this. I am a strong, brave, independent…”

“I’d take a volunteer officer with you.”

An hour later Brittany stood outside of Milkovich household, her heart beating out of her chest as she heard the voices of multiple people inside yelling, the sound of an ambulance in the background, and a child crying a few doors down. She took a deep calming breath before slowly walking up the stairs and with an exhale she knocked. It took only a few seconds for the head of a pale brunette to stick it’s way out. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Mandy Milkovich asked, a sneer across her face that looked permanent. 

“I… I am… uh….”

“Spit it out lady.”

“I’m looking for a Mr. Mikhailo Milkovich. May we come inside?” 

The door slammed in her face and a muffled _Government’s Here! What the fuck, Mickey?!_

The sounds of scurrying began and only 30 seconds later they heard a slam at the back of the house. Brittany and the officer cocked their heads to see a random teenager running away from the home and down the road. Then the door opened again and another pale dark-haired teenager slipped outside. 

“If this is about that fuck-face Caleb you can tell him to calm his tits. I wasn’t serious about running his mother over with a car. It was a fucking joke.”

Brittany remembered the accusation in his report about a hit and run _well, fuck me, it probably is true._

“Mr. Milkovich. You remember me? Ms. Sturgess. I was assigned your case after you were released from Juvenile Detention.” Mickey didn’t respond and instead pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket before slipping one between his lips. “Ok well, I went through your file a few weeks ago and you struck me as someone who would be a fantastic candidate for a specialized program at Bernardo Francisco Academy.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a pamphlet as the young man lit his cigarette. Waiting until he was finished she handed it to him. 

“The fuck is this shit?” Mickey looked at the bright red pamphlet featuring smiling, well-groomed, wealthy looking teenagers. 

“Bernardo Francisco Academy has a federally funded program for youths such as yourself…”

“What is youths like myself?” His scowl and his words bit with a dangerous tone, he took a drag off of his cigarette and exhaled with no thought about the people in front of him. 

“Specifically? Under-privileged young men who are on the verge of adulthood with little to no chance at garnering a high-school diploma or any other ability to advance.”

Mickey stared at the woman, her words coming across as overly complex and unnecessary. 

“This…” _What the fuck?_ “This is the fakest thing I’ve ever heard of. Nice try, lady.” He turned to leave, to walk back into the house filled with his father’s rage, his sister’s tears, and a carton full of stolen handguns. 

“You got in.” She threw out. “I nominated you and you were offered a position.” 

Mickey paused and chewed on his lip for a moment before turning to her. “Got _what_? The fuck does this even mean?”

“It’s one year. 2 semesters. The boarding school is about a 3 hour drive from the city. They have a program that is considered fast-track. You can go, put in the work, and walk out with a diploma from a highly respected and recognized institution. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” She then said her next words carefully and slowly. “Only 5 people a year get this chance, and they are handing it to you. Free room and board, free tuition, this… according to your file you’ve never passed a single class in high-school. What other chance are you going to get?” she could see the confliction on his face and knowing she wouldn’t get an answer from him today she pulled out her business card and shoved it into his hand. “Think about it. Call me by the end of the week.”

Mickey held the business card in his hand as the woman and officer walked away getting into a police cruiser. He stared down at it, her words sticking in his mind. _What other chance are you going to get_. His life was predetermined for him since birth and he had played foot solider and thug pretty well. However, once he turned 15 it became harder and harder to fit into the mold that was expected of him. Most people around that age started to become individuals separate from their parents, but Mickey knew better. A violent father, a vulnerable sister, and an operation that worked well with the other Milkovich brothers - Mickey knew he was a cog in that system and if he dared to step out of line, alter the mold, he’d break the whole goddamn machine. 

When he walked back inside Terry was quickly on his case. “The fuck was that, Mickey! What the hell did you do to bring a cop to this house? We just got a fresh supply and there’s a goddamn cop and official at our door. Fucking idiot. Have some sense.”

Mickey took another drag from his cigarette before walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer. “Don’t worry about it pops, not in trouble. Fucking do-gooder social worker wanting to turn my life into one of Mandy’s goddamn Lifetime movies.” He stumped out his cigarette in a randomly placed ash trash before popping open the beer. His father and brothers sat at the kitchen table with nail files as they sanded away any evidence of a carton of gun’s registration. 

“The fuck does that mean?” Terry looked up at Mickey like he had grown 3 heads. “Who could think you’re something to save?” Terry then let out a bellowing laugh that was soon followed by his brothers’.

“She probably has brain damage.” Mickey said not even registering the slam against him. It was hard to noticed jabs like that when they were truly the only words ever said to him. “Fucking rich-bitch boarding school. I’m not going to sit my ass in a room with guys with names like Mortimer and Randolph while they jerk it to quantum biology or some shit…” Mickey tossed the pamphlet and business card onto the table before sitting down in his chair to get back to work. 

“Quantum fucking... what?” Terry picked up the pamphlet and looked it over. It only took a few seconds for a sparkle to light up his eyes. “A school full of rich kids, huh? And they want you there. Just sitting there? While JP Morgan and Duke here…” he pointed to the stock photo on the cover of the pamphlet. “… just talk about bank accounts and vacations homes?” Terry began to rub his chin as if he was the villain in a James Bond movie. 

Mickey knew that look and it was usually a look that meant Mickey had a lot of work that was about to be thrown his way. 

“This Summer’s smash and grab was pretty fucking weak.” Terry announced. 

Joey pipped up, “Pops, it’s not our fault people didn’t go on vacations this year. What were we supposed to do? Rob drunk old ladies? Which… for the record. I am on board with. If that’s what our next plan is.” he said tossing up his hands clearly symbolizing he was not the rule-maker in the family. 

“How helpful would it be if we knew when these rick fucks were going on vacation? If we knew where they lived… where they were going… how long they’d be gone for. One good grab would be all it’d take to do us up good for the year.” Terry’s eyes landed on Mickey. “What do you say, my boy? Live it up at this… med club for kids, eat their good fucking food, all you gotta do is case out a few of these shit-brains and report back. Easy cush job.” Mickey stared at the pamphlet. Milkovichs normally weren’t long-con type of criminals. They saw. They took. Maybe they did some time. Something like this could be fun and the idea of getting out of the house seemed like the vacation he needed. 

“Fine. I’m not wearing one of those fucking uniforms.” Mickey stood grabbing the business card from the table before heading to his bedroom. 

“You’ll wear whatever the fuck you have to!” He heard Terry shout. Mickey rolled his eyes and just as he went to shut the door he felt someone pushing on it and Mandy came through slammed the door behind her. 

“Fuck-face, get out of my room!” Mickey shouted annoyed and she simply ignored him. 

“Are you really going to fucking leave me here in this shit-hole for a year to rob rich kids while you eat fucking Grey Poupon?!” Her eyes bore into his beggingly hoping she’d snap him out of this dumb plan. 

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” He asked as he started to dial the number on the card but before he could finish Mandy plucked it out of his hand and tossed it onto his bed. 

“You can’t just leave me here all alone, shit-stain! You know what it’s like for me here.” Mickey brought the heel of his hand to his forehead, Mandy was right. 

“You saw how into this fucking plan dad is, okay? He’s not going to let it go because I decide I want to stay and have sleepovers with my sister.” Mandy crossed her arms in front of herself clearly feeling betrayed. “Aren’t you like… constantly fucking at least one of Frank Gallagher’s kids? The fire crotch and the smart one, I can’t keep it straight.”

Mandy grumbled. “Lip went to college and Ian’s… got some other stuff going on.”

“Well reconcile and stay with one of your boyfriends when dad’s in one of his moods, yeah asshole?” He said the last word almost lovingly. “Or just grab a fucking gun and keep it under your pillow. Maybe you’ll blow is ass to kingdom-come. There’s always the option of waiting it out, he’ll end up in jail again soon. ” Frustratingly Mandy stormed out and Mickey grabbed his phone from his bed and dialed the do-gooder social worker’s number. 

_*-*_

Ian sat at the Alibi nursing a cold beer while listening to the endless chit chat from the local patrons. Kev told him that he’d pay Ian for every fight he broke up or customer he bounced on their behalf. In the Southside dive bar it meant he went home with some money everyday. It was especially a good day if it was Frank that he had the pleasure of kicking out. It was a compromise he had come to with Fiona, take the job offered while he waits out for something better. It had been weeks since he first started applying to jobs and when each day went by with nothing it plunged his self esteem more and more. 

It was that day, sitting at the bar he knew far too well at that point, that his phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it quickly and saw a number that he did not recognize. 

“Hello?” He answered. “Yeah this is Ian Gallagher… what?” A few of the patrons stopped and stared at the paled face young man. “Seriously?…” Then a smile erupted. “Yes, 100% I want to take it… 6 weeks? That’s more than enough time… ok I’m looking forward to it.” Ian pulled the phone back staring at it before looking to Kev behind the bar. 

“I… got a job.”

“No shit? Above board?”

Ian nodded. “Really above board. A fucking school. They want me to assist in their physical education department.” He was stunned. When Ian went back home that night he pulled up the job description on the hiring site he had used and reread over the expectations. The school offered sleep accommodations to staff who did not live near by, the pay was fine, most importantly it was legal. If Ian could pull this off, work hard, work his way up - maybe he hadn’t fucked up his life after all. 

The front door opened and Fiona and Liam walked through tossing their items down, she eyed him there immediately, the look on his face made her worry. 

“Everything ok, Ian?”

He looked at her and with a nod and a smile he said, “I got a job, Fi.”

* * *

2 _Weeks Prior_

Dean Adam Harris sat at his disgustingly expensive desk, in an office that was quite cliché for the head of a school. Mahogany, marble, statues, and paintings were everywhere you looked. His office easily could have been plucked right off of the set of any raunchy college comedy. In front of him John O’Hannigan, the head of the physical education department, pushed over the resume of his choice for the new department assistant. 

“John. You have been with this school for 8 years now, your department is ran like a well-oiled machine, and your wife is pregnant. Congratulations, by the way. So can you tell me why our newest hire is…” Dean Harris picked up the piece of paper. “A barely 17 year old teenager with a fresh record and known mental illness?”

John cleared his throat, “Well sir, and yes- thank you. Melanie is very excited. I know the decision isn’t conventional but truth is, our department’s funding hasn’t been upgraded in the last 5 years and if we want to keep the staff we need I had to get creative.”

Dean Harris narrowed his eyes, “I am aware of the budget issue, it’s been raised to the board multiple times, however in an institution like this it’s difficult to sway the argument that a cut somewhere else is worth it for something like physical education…”

“Yes, sir. I understand that completely. I am not complaining, I am simply stating my reasoning. Gallagher here, his background check was spotty, yes, but only recently. According to his cover letter he was recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder which explains the incidents on his record. He has spent the past 6 months recovering and even managed to get his GED while in the process. This tells me that he has a strong work ethic and can manage his responsibilities during times of stress. Also, to be frank. He was in ROTC in high-school and while brief was in the Army. That experience… for the cost of a 17 year old kid with a harried background? We give him $15 an hour and he’ll be happier than a pig in shit, and will probably work a lot harder for it. Anyone else we’d have to pay a lot more, sir. He’s a damn bargain. Plus hiring someone with a disability fulfills some of our hiring requirements.”

Dean Harris nodded his head, “You know, this is why you were given that promotion. Also, everyone loves the tale of an underdog. Speaking of - I have another meeting in about 2 minutes with the admission staff.” He tensed, clearly it was a conversation that was going to be a difficult one. “While I’m sure you have a lot of work to do in order to prepare for the new school year, would you mind sticking around? Maybe having your input in this unfortunate matter would be helpful.” Dean Harris looked at the other man and cocked an eyebrow. John pretended to mull it over before smirking. 

“Sure.”

As if on cue a knock came to the heavy wood doors of the office. “Come in!” Dean Harris called out and soon a group of 4 individuals were walking in and taking their seats. Assistant Dean Carol Dickerson sat in the chair directly across from the Dean and next to John. She didn’t question why he was there, while a petite red-haired woman Joan scurried to the safety of the fireplace. It was the perfect distance from her bosses while not making it look as if she was avoiding them. A man from the scholarship department stood close by along with a man from the financial aid department. 

“So.” Dean Harris began. “Can someone tell me, how on earth we only ended up with 5 applicants this year for the underprivileged youth program?” He began eyeing all of the new occupants of the office. “We typically receive hundreds and yet this year we have only 5?” His tone was short and threatening. 

Carol cleared her throat, “Well sir. _Someone_ ,” all eyes shot to Joan hiding by the fireplace. “Misunderstood the instructions she was given. She set the settings for the application portal to 5 slots available instead of unlimited applications. This means that after the first 5 applications were sent in, the portal locked out anyone else from applying. We found out too late.” Every eye in the room except for John’s bore into the young woman. 

“I’m…” Joan’s voice squeaked out. “I’m new.” Not that it was an excuse but she felt the need to defend herself just a little. 

“So you’re telling me, that instead of having hundreds of applicants to vet, to rank, and to weed out we’re stuck with these 5? We can’t extend the application process? Send out a memo to common departments that apply on behalf of these students to send in more?”

The man in the room from the financial aid department spoke up, “Sir, in order to receive the federal funding for this program they need the names and the paperwork. It takes about 4 weeks to get the documents in line once students are chosen and we don’t have the time at this point to reopen up the application process.”

“And if we just say _fuck it_ , this year? How important is that program to our overall budget?”

The man sighed, “Very important. The program costs us very little as an institution. 5 extra students affects expenses virtually at all, however - the funding we receive for the program covers at least one of the social sciences departments. “

Dean Harris sat there quietly for a moment and sighed, “Ok what 5 do we have?”

Carol pulled out a manila folder and laid out the applications. 

“We have a Alexander Johnson, 16, Kamal Kelley, 16, Curtis MacMillan, 17, Mikhailo Milkovich, 17 but almost 18, and Antonio Russo, 17. All somewhat decent candidates… some more so than others.” her eyes lingered on Mickey’s file. 

“Any of them we think would be a danger to any of our other students or staff?”

Carol sighed a bit before making a statement she had been holding in for the past 10 years she had worked for this institution. “Sir… some of their backgrounds are… rough but to be transparent so are our many of our high-paying students. Jonathan Waldorf stole 3 cars this year for joy-rides, Charles Kennedy is regularly accused of date-rape at his family’s luxury hotel, and Maximillian James can’t keep his fists to himself. We don’t house angels, sir- no matter how big the checks are that their families send. And we take it, we deal with it, and we do the work we’re here to do. Will we get a dime from these 5? No, but the standards we’ve always held these applicants to is not the same standards we hold to the rest of our students.”

Everyone was quiet for a few moments. 

“How long have you been holding that in, Carol?”

“A long time, sir.”

Dean Harris nodded and sighed. “Ok, send the acceptance letters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The rich kid names that the Milkovichs make up are all inspired by the movie Trading Places (1983)


	2. Antonio Russo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fish out of water, Ian and Mickey find a comfortable familiarity in each other's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Again, I know no other fans. I do have a tumblr though so I'd love to follow some of you. https://annatrow.tumblr.com/ - I plan to update this story every Friday

Ian had prepared the past 4 weeks for this new opportunity, and hopefully the answer to his current _where do I go from here_ predicament. That’s not to say that he was under any false illusions about what the job would entail. Did he think he would be curating athletic regimes for Bernardo Francisco Academy and it’s finest athletes? No. He was fully aware that he would be most likely be cleaning basketballs and washing jock straps, but he didn’t care. He knew if he could do well at the academy, show that he wasn’t just some fuck-up with a mental illness, than everything he had strived for in his life wouldn’t be gone just because of a few manic episodes. The only problem with living in the Gallagher household was being amped about anything was typically met with pitiful glances. Generations of crushed spirits and broken dreams had trained them all very well to be cautious about anything that seemed too good to be true. 

He arrived to the academy by bus just past 10am Sunday morning with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Ian had expected to arrive before the institution’s students but his new boss, John, told him that wouldn’t be necessary. Standing at the walkway of the grandest brick building he had ever seen he was met by a sea of very clean, very expensive smelling, very well-groomed young men. Ian suddenly thought back to watching G _ossip Girl_ with Debbie and while he had rubbed elbow with moderately rich people before, this was an entirely new beast. He had never felt more out of place in his life. At least with rich old dudes from the Northside they had sex in common. 

“Jesus Christ…” He mumbled to himself and it was enough to grab the attention of a petite redhead holding a clipboard. 

“Hello!” She chirped brightly sticking her hand out, “Are you new this year?”

“Uhh… yeah, actually. I’m Ian Gallagher.” He finally snapped out of his daze enough to reach out to shake her hand. “I am the new assistant for the Physical Education Department. I’m supposed to meet John O’Hannigan.”

“Oh yes! I’m Joan, Joan Summers, I’m new this year as well, though I started during the summer break and let me tell you…” She leaned in as if to tell him a secret, “no matter what mistakes you make this year. I can promise you they will pale in comparison to what I’ve managed to do over the summer.” This caused Ian to smile, either she sensed his nervousness or it was clear that all new jobs were bound to be nerve-wracking. 

“Oh I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Ian smiled, his natural charm capturing the young woman. 

“Ahhh…” Joan scoffed. “Trust me, I’m shocked I wasn’t fired. Anyways, the Phys Ed department is in the E Building. If you walk just down this sidewalk here,” she pointed to the a sidewalk wrapping around the main building, “turn left at the meditation garden, you’ll be only a few steps away.”

“Thank you.” The other redhead’s description was perfect and in no time he found himself standing in front of a very large state-of-the-art modern looking building, a completely different vibe than the old, brick, main academic building. A baseball field hugged close to the E building just barely out of sight. Walking inside Ian stepped into a lobby area, it was quiet and empty, but after a few steps inside he saw an open door off of the lobby leading into an office. 

“Hello?” Ian asked walking in and in seconds another voice followed. 

“Hello,” the door fully opened and a 40-something man with dark hair walked out smiling to Ian. “You must be Mr. Gallagher, I am John O’Hannigan, but please just call me John.” He stuck his hand out towards Ian and he was quick to shake it. 

“Nice to meet you, John. I have to tell you I am looking forward to working with you. This job could not be more suited to my skills and interest…” Ian had to mentally remind himself that he was already hired, he didn’t need to remind them of his desperation at every turn. 

John sensed the kid’s nervousness but he smiled, he liked this guy a lot, something about Ian reminded him of himself. “Let me give you a brief tour and then we will sit down with Dean Harris so that I can introduce you two. Actually, let me show you where you’ll be staying first, you don’t want to drag around your things, though…” John paused and stepped back a bit seeing that Ian didn’t seem to have brought a lot. “…I did expect more than a duffle bag.”

Ian followed John as they walked out of the E building and over to the F building close by. “You’ll stay in the F Building. This is where staff and administration who do not have homes nearby stay. Most of us either live in town or travel to the academy just for each semester. My wife and I purchased a home only about 20 minutes away. So there are options for you later down the line if you like this type of work.” The brief mention of Ian possibly staying on for more than a year gave him a sense of pride. Just before they entered John pointed to a building across the courtyard, “Building C is where meals are served in the dining hall. As an employee you have open access to all meals as part of your benefit’s package. Oh!…” John remembered reaching into his pocket to pull out a yellow lanyard with a key card. “This is your employee ID and your keycard. This will let you into most buildings within reason, your room, as well as pay for your meals.” Ian took the lanyard from the man’s hand and slipped it over his neck. 

John and Ian walked into Building F and through the lobby to the first elevator. Ian’s eyes looked over the art, stark white walls, and shiny marble flooring. _How the hell was this a school?_ Once inside John swiped his badge against a card reader and hit the button for the 4th floor. “You’ll be rooming with one of our other staff members. His name is Jared, this is his second year here. He works primarily with the Bursar.” Ian would later learn that Jaren was in the middle of getting his graduate degree in business administration. He was working remotely on his degree while working at the academy to gain experience. Once the two men got to the 4th floor they went to the first door on the right and John nodded to Ian to swipe his keycard. Ian did, the door unlocked, and he pushed it open. It was a small room, two beds, two desks, and two closets. It reminded him a lot of Lip’s dorm room. He noticed one bed was already claimed with books piled on top so he took the hint and tossed his duffle bag onto the other bed. 

“So just one bag? Most people pack a bit heavier for a semester.”

“Oh…” Ian considered it for a moment. “Where I’m from we don’t exactly have a lot of shit to carry around, you know?”

“No, no I get it. Resourceful. Makes sense.” _Army_. John figured. He then gave Ian a tour around the Academy, pointing out each building and it’s purpose. With each passing second more and more bodies seemed to crowd each square foot of the campus and it’s lawn. When they arrived to Dean Harris’s office Ian wasn’t sure what to expect but once the three men settled at the Dean’s desk Ian let out a long held breath. 

“Mr. Gallagher, it’s wonderful to finally meet you.” Dean Harris began. “I’m sure John gave you a tour but if you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask. We were quite impressed with your resume and your background in the ROTC and your brief time in the military. That experience is valuable and is truly why I wanted to bring you aboard. Your main duties will be to assist Mr. O’Hannigan, that will range from helping plan classes, events, and extra-curricular programs. He’ll go over your exact schedule with you. While you are not working you are welcome to use the gym facilities, the pool, the library, and our yoga/meditation garden, whatever you need to make yourself comfortable. Did you have any concerns or any questions for me before we part?”

“Well Mr. Har… I mean Dean Harris, I am grateful for this opportunity and am really looking forward to what this work involves. I have no questions at this moment but please know I am very excited.” After some smiles, handshakes, and nods he and John left the dean’s office and he was given his schedule. Monday-Friday 8am-11:30am for the morning class, and 3pm-6:30pm for the evening class. Weekends are free unless there is a special event, all subject to change. When Ian got back to his shared room his roommate was still no where in sight so Ian grabbed his cellphone he dialed Lip.

“Sup, bro.” Lip answered the phone after only a few rings. 

“Lip, this place is fucking wild. I have never seen kids this clean, facilities this immaculate, and the job… fuck man, it’s perfect.”

“Just don’t screw it up.” Lip warned, not because he thought Ian would, but because he knew his family’s tendencies to piss on a good thing. 

“What could possibly screw this up?”

* * *

_The fuck did I just walk into?_

Mickey Milkovich, duffle bag in hand, stood in front of the largest school he had ever seen. Fresh off of the bus he stood with the other 4 candidates for the _poor kid program_ , or whatever they were calling it. There were so many students mulling around, all in perfectly pressed uniforms and professionally styled dye jobs. Mickey and the other students stood in their normal, less impressive clothing, which made them stand out like sore thumbs. To say they were getting looks from the other students was an understatement. 

“What’s that smell?” Alexander, a nerdy looking kid asked as he looked around.

“Fresh air.” Groaned Kamal.

It didn’t take long for Joan to spot the new drop offs and with a wide smile she approached them. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Joan and I’ll be escorting you to your program coordinator Ms. Shea.” The fact she knew who they were without much of a question was obvious to all of them. Joan noticed that they didn’t have many belongings with them. “Did you manage to get everything off of the bus?” Mickey just shared at her as if she were the dumbest person alive. 

“What the fuck else would we need?” Joan took that as a yes and led the 5 boys over to Building B. Mickey eyes were darting around. These kids were so… _clean_. Not a smudge in the entire sea of trust funds. When they walked into Building B he was taken back by how shiny everything was, it reminded him of the time he and Mandy had to go to the downtown Chicago courthouse to act as witnesses in their uncles murder trial. 

Joan knocked on a door that read _Olivia Shea_ and a woman stepped out before smiling at the boys. “Thank you, Joan.” She then turned her attention to Mickey and the others. “Welcome to Bernardo Francisco Academy. I am Ms. Shea, your program coordinator, we are very pleased to have you, please step inside.” Mickey was already scanning the shelves to her office, looking for anything of value, a habit he had learned over the years and he often did it without noticing. Before he realized what was happening a piece of paper was being shoved into his hands along with a black lanyard with a keycard and a welcome packet. “These are your schedules, welcome packets, and key cards. When you have the opportunity please read your welcome packet, it will give you valuable information that you will need for your year with us. The key cards will act not only as your identification but as your key into your rooms, classroom buildings, and cafeteria. I will give you a tour shortly but I did want to say first and foremost that we are very happy to have you here. My job is as your lifeline. If you are struggling with the new environment, other students, or classes - I am who you can talk to. ”

Mickey looked over his schedule. _Algebra, English, Writing, Biology, Social Science, Life Skills, Physical Education_. Monday and Wednesday he had Algebra and Writing, Tuesday and Thursday were English and Biology, with Friday being dedicated to Life Skills _whatever that was_ and Physical Education Mickey was overwhelmed just looking at this. 

“Keep in mind, this is a condensed curriculum. The school developed lesson plans for this program in an attempt to get the most vital information you need as easily and as quickly as possible. It may not be the smoothest process, but that’s why I am here. I am paid a very large amount of money to help you succeed, so I recommend you take advantage of that. Now, let’s get you to your rooms so that you can put away your things.” Mickey was stunned into silence. What alien universe had he fallen into? The bright red uniforms of all these kids, the tall academic buildings, _was that someone doing fucking yog_ a, Mickey forgot for a second that he was on a job, this whole thing felt like a fever dream. 

After a tour of the campus Olivia brought the boys to two rooms on the first floor of the D Building, one was set up for 3 students while the other was set up for two. Sure enough Mickey found himself rooming with Alexander aka Alex and Antonio aka Tony. With a few pairs of school uniforms on each bed, paired with a stack of textbooks on each nightstand, Mickey tossed his duffle bag on the bed closest to the door. 

“So are…” Alex started. 

“No.” Mickey stopped him there. “We’re not gal pals, we’re not Eskimo brothers, we aren’t shit. So do me a favor, don’t speak to me, don’t look at me, don’t touch my crap, and I won’t have to call your mother myself to identify the body. Got it?” Alex eyed Tony and rolled his eyes, communicating effectively _what a drama queen_. Grabbing his cellphone and stepping outside Mickey dialed Mandy. 

“Hey shit-stain.” Mandy answered

“Hey insidious-slut.”

“Is that a new one?”

“Yeah, figured you’d like it. “

“I do. So how is it so far on planet blue bond?”

“Fuck, Mandy. I feel like I fell down the rabbit hole and I’m about to be eaten alive by a psychedelic mushroom. I need to make dad happy, get a few jobs for him, and then get the fuck out of here. I saw so many of _them_.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Her tone convincing no one, not even herself. 

“Mandy, when was the last time you showered, shaved, did your fucking hair, and dressed up?”

“Oh shit… I don’t know… Uncle Igor’s funeral? 2 years back.”

“Yeah these people did that for the first day of school.” He grumbled into the phone. 

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“What if it’s a cult? Like what if your eating tonight in the cafeteria, or great hall, or whatever. Then midway through the meal the ghost of Michael Jackson appears and informs you that you’ve been eating people and now you’re initiated in some strange end-of-days suicide pact?”

“Mandy…” Mickey sighed. “You can’t watch so much H.B.O. Tell Iggy to un-steal that shit..”

After getting off the phone with Mandy Mickey walked back into his shared dorm room and began rifling through his bag pulling out a small notebook and pen before placing them onto of his stack of books. Other than some clothing and cigarettes that was essentially all he had brought with him, except of course for some Adderall which he knew he’d have no problem selling to the rich fucks at the school. Tossing his wrinkled clothing into a drawer beneath his bed he stared at that the uniform sets sitting freshly pressed in front of him. Was he expected to wear these? Like all the time? Even out of class? He looked over at the other two teens and saw they had already changed. The black slacks, white button up shirt, and bright red blazers looked ridiculous. 

_You’ll wear whatever the fuck you have to!_

With a groan Mickey changed into the black slacks and white shirt but he would be in hell before he put on a fucking blazer. The clothes were a little too big but he didn’t care. Throwing the red monstrosity onto the floor at the foot of his bed he left the room. Mickey walked out of the D Building and sat down at a bench in the courtyard. All he had to do was scope out a few of these fucks, get information for his dad, then that was it. He eyed the boys walking around, stopping to huddle into groups, smiling, high-fiving each other. Whose life was this? He leaned back against the brick wall behind him, crossed his arms over his chest, and he groaned shutting his eyes. Was it weird he was already getting a headache?

“Micky?” 

He thought he heard his name but knowing no one there knew his name, much less his nickname, he figured that it was nothing more than a phantom voice. 

“Yo! Milkovich.” Ok, maybe he wasn’t a trick of the mind. 

Opening one eye he saw a figure coming towards him blocking the sun. Bright red hair, tall-toned body, he recognized that body. Had thought about that body. Was that….

“Galligher?”

“ _What the fuck.”_ they both said in unison. Ian stared at the slightly older brother of his best friend, the kid who called them douchebags, who if Ian was being honest, he had a classic _bad boy_ crush on when he was 15.

“What are you doing here? Robbing some kids?” Ian smirked crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at the miserable looking young man. 

“Yeah actually… what the fuck are you doing here? Last I heard you were missing. Think you broke my sister’s heart. I should beat the shit out of you for that.”

Ian rolled his eyes, did Mickey really not know he was gay? Sure he never made some grand declaration or anything but… he didn’t try to hide it. Well that wasn’t entirely true. Mandy helped him hide it until he left. Should he tell him? With a fag-basher as renowned as his father Ian figured it was best left unsaid. 

“I was… I came back. I work here. Feel free to give me a beat down.” He said unenthusiastically. 

Mickey was definitely living in an alien dimension. “Work here? Doing what? And I’ll check in with Mandy first. See how she’d like it done. You know, baseball bat to the groin, rearranged face, she deserves the option.”

Ian sat down next to his beard-in-law. “Working in the physical education department. You know cleaning shit, following orders…”

“… cleaning balls, stroking bats… following orders on the education of the physical…”

“Jesus. I forgot how gross you make everything sound.” Bold. Faced. Lie. If Mickey Milkovich wanted to talk about stroking bats Ian would listen all day. Mickey chuckled, his eyes landing on the redhead next to him. Mickey knew he was uncomfortable with this place, but the scope of it hadn’t landed on him until he was sitting next to someone familiar. “Oh you and Mandy always fucking loved it.”

“Maybe… so am I going to get the pleasure of seeing the big bad Mickey Milkovich in one of those red blazers?” If either one of them were at the emotional maturity to understand the undertones of each other’s situation and discomfort - that may have come across as flirting. 

“Gallagher…” Mickey’s tone was suddenly low and with edge. “I will die before I put on that fucking red blazer. I worry that the loophole to that will be ‘oh great, let’s put it on him at his fucking funeral.’ No. If you see that on me at my funeral, I am holding you personally responsible and I will fucking haunt your ass and make you wish that you were dead.” Had Mickey always been funny? When did Mickey get funny? That boyhood crush was creeping up again and Ian noticed its nostalgic thrill immediately. Also he had to admit, the guy looked good in a button up and slacks, though it was glaringly obvious that the boy beneath the clothing wasn’t quite as clean.

“Hey meth-house!” The two heard a random kid shout from across the courtyard, their eyes landed on a blond, tall, filthy-rich looking son of a bitch. They waited for him to say more but he just laughed with a few of his buddies, high-fived, and walked away. 

“What the fuck was that?” Mickey asked suddenly very confused. 

“A rich asshole.” Ian said uneventfully. 

“No, I get that part, but like… did he want meth? I can get him meth.”

“What?” Ian looked at Mickey oddly. “No. He was insinuating that you live in a meth house.”

“I do live in a meth house.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah but he doesn’t know that, Mickey. He’s trying to bully you.”

_The fuck?_

“So rich kids bully people by pointing out truthful things about them?”

“Essentially.”

“Wow… back home you bully people by shooting them in the leg, or…you know, head-butting them.” Before Ian could respond he heard his name called and looking up he saw John. 

“I gotta go. See ya later, Milkovich.”

As Ian stood to head back to the E Building Mickey let out a long held breath, his eyes running up and down the kid as he walked away. The intense thoughts he used to have about Ian back when he was dating Mandy was responsible for at least 2 of his juvie stints. 

* * *

Mickey spent the rest of the Sunday scoping out the campus, he walked around making sense of the general areas where socializing occurred. Where did these kids gather? Where did they spend more than 10 minutes? Where were the largest crowds? If he needed to do this job, he wanted to make sure it was done somewhat effectively and quickly so that he could get it done and then get out of this hell-scape. He wrote in his little blue notebook all of his observations, including a note about weird blond kid from earlier. Something about his face made it seem really good for punching and Mickey didn’t know how, he didn’t know when, but he was going to beat the shit out of that kid one day. 

It was nearing sunset when he stopped by the cafeteria and picked himself up a sandwich, he ate it as he walked back to his room. He was relieved to find the place empty so he took the opportunity to lay back on his bed before drifting to sleep. About two hours passed before he heard the door to his room close and it startled him awake. Momentarily forgetting where he was he almost ground out a _Mandy, get the fuck out_. However, the events of the day came crashing down on him and hard. Where he was, the people he was around, the expectations of his father, the expectations of the program coordinator, and back in his mind in a locked box; the expectations he had of himself. It was all a lot of pressure and a lot of polarity paired with never having felt so out of place before. 

Mickey sat up ignoring his roommates to dig a pack of cigarettes out of his duffle bag. He was almost to the door when one of his roommates, Tony spoke up. “Dude, curfew is 8pm,” he held up his welcome packets as evidence. “Once you leave, after 8pm your keycard won’t let you back in.” Mickey just grumbled bringing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “But fret not…” fret not? _Who the fuck was this kid?_ “Something I learned at one of my foster homes. He then watched as Tony dug around in his backpack and pulled out roll of duct tape, _did he always carry this around with him?_ Though Mickey knew people picked up strange survival techniques when they bounced around from place to place. Tony cut off a piece and opening the door he taped down the latch-bolt. He then closed the door and pulled it back open to show off his handiwork. 

“Well fuck…” Mickey was impressed, “thanks Tony.” He then walked out the door leaving Tony and Alex smiling. 

“So we’ve gotten _dead body_ and _thanks_ in one day.” Alex observed. “I’m not saying that the balance of hostility is as good as it’s going to get. But I’ll take it.” Tony nodded in agreement. 

* * *

Mickey walked out of the D Building and scoped out the darkened campus, for the most part it was empty apart from a few staff members walking around but it was easy to avoid them. All he wanted was a place somewhat away from the campus where he could get some peace and get his head straight. After thinking for a moment he headed over to the Phys Ed department eyeing a baseball field around the back. It was covered by the modern building and there didn’t seem to be any security lights. Easy enough, close by, and relatively removed from the foot traffic. Making himself comfortable in the dugout, Mickey fished a cigarette from his pack and slipped it between his lips before lighting it up. He took a deep drag and sighed contently thankful for the familiar feeling in his lungs. However, as good as the Southside kid thought he was at evading the prying eyes of authority figures, he didn’t account for the only other person as skilled as he was. Ian was leaving the E Building when he noticed a shadowy figure slip around a corner and towards the baseball field. 

“I’ve never seen you in such clean clothes before.” Ian said startling Mickey from the contentment of his smoke saying out loud what he had been thinking to himself earlier. He didn’t say a word and simply gave Ian the middle finger. The redhead chuckled before sitting down next to him, falling into a comfortable silence. The two shifted quietly, an unspoken comfort between the two. This place was something neither of them had seen before, a place neither of them fit into. While Ian was excited at the prospect, it pulled nothing but self-hatred out of Mickey. 

“Can I borrow a smoke?” Mickey responded by handing him his pack. Ian lit up tossing it back. 

“Did you ask Mandy yet how you should beat my ass?”

Mickey smirked, “Ah, don’t worry about it, fire crotch. It’ll happen, don’t rush it.” There was a beat. “This fucking place, man.” Mickey rubbed his eyes trying to ease the stress behind them. 

“Are you really here to rob kids?”

“Yeah. Some do-gooder social worker got me in. Was going to tell her to take her pamphlet and go all Exorcist with it, but then my pops had this grand idea. So now I’m here… casing out the next generation of stockbrokers and shit. Been like 12 hours and I already want to blow my brains out.”

“Young, Asian, glasses, maybe like… 20?”

“Yeah, you know her?”

“She’s the reason we all ended up in foster care a year back.”

“Ah shit man. I think she got our fucking households confused. Something like this should have been given to you, with Mandy and I in the system. Always how it goes though, yeah? Not gonna snitch, are you?”

“Hell no. Just don’t fuck up my situation and you’re good, man. How is Mandy doing? I haven’t really talked to her much since I got back.” Mickey only shrugged. 

“You don’t know my sister, til you’ve fought my sister. She’s a survivor. A nuclear bomb ever goes off and it’ll be cockroaches and Milkovichs surfacing.” Mickey’s eyes flicked over to the redhead for a brief moment before focusing back on his cigarette. “Why do you care, man?”

“She’s my best friend, Mickey. I owe her a lot. Kept me from getting my ass beat by every homophobe in the Southside.” That confirmed what Mickey always assumed. “I mean… no offense.” Mickey laughed. 

“Well now that I know you’re gay I guess I have to kill you.” He feigned seriousness. “That was always my dad’s bag, not mine. Just don’t come on to me or anything.” Ian rolled his eyes, he fucking hated when people said that. “I tend to be on dads smash and grab, drug peddling, fraud team. The violent mob is more of a him and his buddies thing. Fuck I want a beer.”

Ian couldn’t keep his eyes off of the Milkovich next to him. In the years they’ve known each other they had never spoken this much. Most of their conversations involved being called douchebag, having the video game controller stolen, and an occasional threat of a beat down for something involving Mandy. He had rarely seen Mickey outside of his family, and when they had been alone together in the past they both had a habit of sitting in awkward silence. It was hard to notice where each Milkovich began and the other ended when they were all together, their personalities tending to blend into one white-trash clan, similar to his own. Just like Mandy however, it was only alone could you make out the edges. Ian liked Mickey’s edges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This school is very much based off of my own experiences growing up in a small poor town and then going to a "rich kid" college. I didn't last more than a month living on campus. Let's hope Mickey can stick it out. Another fun fact: each chapter is named after a character in the chapter who has some hand at pushing these two together. Next chapter will be named: John O’Hannigan


	3. John O’Hannigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirty and fearful can these two overcome years of baggage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. One of the most interesting parts of writing this story (as well as reading other Older Ian/Mickey meet-cute stories) is having to imagine Mickey going through teenage-hood without Ian as his only grounding factor. Imagining how vital it was for him to find someone like Ian at 15/16 - who not only liked him and knew him but loved him and wanted more of him. Coming almost to adulthood without that experience that is something I work through a bit in this chapter.

It became routine before either of them had really noticed it. 8pm, the campus would thin, Mickey would go to the baseball dugout, then like clockwork, Ian would join him. Some nights they’d sit in the silence of the strange reality they had found themselves in, other nights they’d shit-talk each other, perhaps they would drum on about their day, but it wasn’t the activities that occurred during these informal rituals that was important. It was the ritual itself, that during these initial days at the campus through rain or shine the two of them would manage to make it happen. Tuesday night of their first week Ian used the dugout frame to do pull-ups, while Mickey worked over his oral fixation with a cigarette. The people they were dealing with; the other students, staff, and roommates became a topic of conversation. 

“Security patrols this place at night, they never come back here.” Ian observed out loud. 

“Yeah because they’re looking for parties man, they don’t care about a pile of dirt behind the gym.”

“Guess you’re right. No stranger then the fact I still haven’t met my roommate.”

“You’ve been roommates with this guy for what 3 days? You still haven’t met him?” Mickey shook his head before blowing smoke towards the general direction of Ian, the man busy working out his arms and core. 

“I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist.” His breath laboring from his workout. “I find a note from him every once in a while and I think… last night I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him snoring, but man… he doesn’t come back to the room until I’m asleep and he leaves before I’m awake. Either he’s dedicated to his studying or he’s the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Fuck it man, talk to Mandy about that shit, I’m sure she’ll give you some interesting theories. She’s really into the cult thing right now.”

It was Thursday when Ian had brought them a baseball from the Phys Ed department to toss back and forth from one end of the dugout to the other. 

“He then said to me, ‘Hey, food stamps!’” Mickey said recalling another run in with the strange blond kid from their first day. “I told him, ‘We don’t get food stamps. Government poking around in out shit and all that.’ and he just walked away.” He tossed the ball back to Ian as he was rolling his eyes. 

“Mickey, you are the anecdote to name calling…” He tossed the ball back. “One day he’ll find something that’ll hit a nerve…”

Mickey tossed it back. “Maybe… maybe not. Fuck man. Call me a bad shot, call me a little bitch, something worth my time. I don’t really see what he’s trying to accomplish.”

“Only in our neighborhood can people be confident of their white-trash status and wear it proudly, man.” Mickey smirked. 

It was Saturday night when Ian had his hands planted on the damp grass, working through a set of pushups as Mickey sat with his algebra book laid out in front of him. _Fucking numbers and letters? Who thought that shit was a good idea._

“Listen, Mickey. You have to actually participate in Phys Ed classes. Coach was really pissed that you refused to do anything and just sat there the whole time yesterday.”

Mickey rolled his eyes before making a jacking off motion with his hand, “Until they give me a gun or some iron, I’m not fucking doing gay shit like running around in circles or mountain fallers or whatever.”

“Mountain climbers…” Ian corrected with a grunt.

“Want me to run? Start shooting at me. My ass will run. So get off my dick, and help me with this dumb shit.” Aggravated at the homework in front of him he tossed his pencil down on his book. Ian sighed before getting up and walking over, breathing heavily he leaned over Mickey’s shoulder to look at the equations. 

It was Monday night and Mickey was sitting on the grass while Ian paced in front of him like a mad man. “I don’t know what the fuck is up with Debbie,” he threw his arms up in frustrations. “How did a sweet kid like her, an angel, start getting into all of this shit? Fiona said she put a snake in a girl’s car, started harassing the girlfriend of this random kid, and I didn’t get the exact details but something weird went down at a party at the house- I think I blacked out as Fiona was rattling off the details. What the fuck happened? I feel like I need to go home and just… be there for her? I don’t know, clearly she needs some parenting. Not that I’m saying I should be that parent but… something’s got to give.”

“She’s what? 11?” Mickey asked fiddling with the blade of a pocket knife he lifted from some kid in the courtyard earlier in the day. 

“14.”

“Do you know what I was doing at 14?”

Ian stopped looking at Mickey as if he lost his mind. “Yeah I do. I was there, remember? You were robbing the Kash and Grab, stealing guns, selling drugs to the middle schoolers, and being a chaotic whirlwind all around the Southside. Why do you think I had to beard it with Mandy? Sneak over enemy lines and keep out of the path of your wrath.”

Mickey chucked, “Hell yeah, man. Your baby face behind the register at that shit-hole store. Who could resist robbin’ it?” It was a tease that made Ian’s stomach twist nervously. _Your baby face - Who could resist robbin’ it?_ Ian would lay awake that night, those words playing on repeat in his mind. 

It was their second week and a Wednesday night when Mickey updated Ian on the job for his dad. “Apparently the Biltmores are out of town until Christmas vacation, I guess sending their annoying kid here for the semester was reason enough to celebrate. That dumbass Jonathan basically bragged on the phone to his girl and told her every detail of his fucking mansion, it’s location, and the fucking layout. The only thing he withheld was the gate code and his dick size.”

“What do you think is really going to happen?”

“Nah man, I don’t know. She’ll probably let him fuck her.” he grumbled as he repeatedly lit his lighter over and over again. 

“Not what I mean. No offense, Mickey. But Terry is kind of an idiot. Do you think he’ll pull any of this off? These grand robberies?”

“Not at all. But that’s none of my concern. I give the info, he goes from there. If he gets himself tossed back in the clink that’s on him.” Ian wanted to ask him more about his goals here, he saw Mickey doing the work, turning shit in, he wanted to pry and ask if he planned to complete this program. But Ian knew the Milkovichs well enough to know that anything too personal would get him the middle finger and the silent treatment the rest of the night. 

“Did you turn that paper in?” Ian asked referring to an essay on ‘homelessness in the US’ Mickey had due that day. He had looked it over with him, gave him some advice, and even edited it a bit. 

“Yeah.” Was all Mickey said. 

“Good.”

Silence. 

“Oh shit.” Ian said suddenly remembering some very important information. “Know that fucking kid who keeps trying to bully you but fails due to your inability to know when you’re being bullied? His names fucking Channing Shaw.” Mickey grimaced at the name. “He’s in John’s Wednesday night class. I looked at the roster because I had to fucking know.” In response Mickey pulled out his little blue notepad and wrote his name down. 

“Good to know. One day I’m going to kill that kid. My foot into his ass.” Ian smirked.

“Also, heads up. Friday….” he eyed the brunet, “Phys Ed…”

Mickey eyed Ian impatiently. “Spit it out, Gallagher.” 

“Coach and I finished class planning today and I hate to tell you man, but you guys are running laps.”

“Fuck no I am not.” His statement clear and concise. 

Ian rolled his eyes. “Why are you so against getting physical, Mickey? You normally love it. You’re the guy people call to get that shit done. Why are you so weird about it?” Though Ian was sure he already knew.

“When I get graded on a beat down, running from the cops, shooting teddy bears, or staking out a target - then I’ll stop being so weird about it.”

* * *

Friday rolled around and Mickey was sitting in his Life Skills class, again whatever the fuck that was, when the head of Olivia Shea popped into the classroom. “Hello, Mrs. Hubert. May I see Mr. Milkovich for a brief moment?” Soon Mickey was sitting across from Olivia in her office, her hands folded and eyes on him in a way that made him shift uneasily. He really had no idea what this was about. Other than breaking curfew he had been following all of their dumb rules. Except of course the robbery thing, but they couldn’t know about his casing. Therefore they had nothing on him. Easy. Deny. Deny. Deny. They wouldn’t get him to talk no matter what they claimed they had on him. 

“Mr. Milkovich. On Wednesday you turned in an essay assignment to Mr. Jackson and while he could have waited to hand it back to you on Monday, he reached out to me. He showed me the what you had submitted.” She put his paper on her desk and slowly slid it over to him. There was a big red _B+_ with a note that read ‘ _nice work._ ’ 

“This was a very thoughtful response to the topic, and you used your own life experiences to back up your arguments. Barely any tangent, you stuck to the topic and you laid everything out very well. All in all, it was very well done.” Mickey sat silently. No one had ever praised him like this before, for anything, even when he completed a successful drug run for his dad the most he got was a beer for his efforts. A sense of pride began to creep up into his mind, pride in himself as a student. This was a fragile emotion that if too much pressure was applied would shatter. 

“The only reason it wasn’t an ‘A’ is due to grammar but that’s something you can work on.” Mickey picked up the paper, his eyes fixated on the red markings. “I know it may not seem like a big deal, Mr. Milkovich but you seem to be adapting pretty well. We’ve had other teens with less harried backgrounds than yours who struggle much more. So I just wanted to say that we’re proud of you. Keep up the great work.” Not knowing how to react to this situation Mickey just nodded his head, gave the faintest hint of a smile, and left to go back to class. 

* * *

Ian was carrying a few mats out from the E Building towards the baseball field as he helped prepare for the upcoming evening class. John was testing his stopwatch next to the dugouts to make sure it was working properly. Once satisfied he looked at the roster attached to his clipboard. “You know, I’ve been working at this school for 8 years now,” He began speaking to Ian. “You would think it’s the same every year, but each time there is something. Whether it’s a kid who needs special accommodations, or another allergic to fresh air, it never runs as smoothly as one would expect. People think that you come up with one routine, run it daily for years, and the just is done. It’s never quite that simple.”

“Anything I can help with?” 

“For this? No. However, I have been meaning to talk to you. Some of the… how do I put this… more distinguished parents, also know as those whose checks are bigger than the checks of others… are wanting us to bring back wrestling. It went out of fashion about two decade ago but for some reason they want it back. Maybe a TikTok went viral or it’s the nostalgia factor. I couldn’t tell you. However, I’ve never had to put together a wrestling program and I dug around some of the old filing cabinets in the back room looking for something from the 80s with some ideas. I couldn’t find anything. When you have down time, maybe while I’m running class, if you could do some research and put together some information on this for me?” Ian’s eyes it up. “I’m not asking you to create a program or a class schedule, you’re not paid nearly enough to go through all of that, just pull the literature and I’ll work through it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah.” Ian was quick to say. “Yes. I’d really like to do that.” John smiled clearly pleased at reaction Ian had to the additional work. They had made a really good hire with this one, that he was sure of. 

“Perfect. You really are an asset to this department. Now, if you could perform miracles and get that pale kid to fucking participate in class, my life would be hunky dory.” Ian frowned. _Mickey_. 

* * *

Class was about to begin and Ian and John stood near the baseball field waiting for the 5 boys from the _poor kid program_ as Mickey called it, to show up. As Mickey approached the field he noticed Ian looked annoyed and as he became more suspicious as the redhead’s eyes stayed locked on him. Ian’s gym shorts and grey shirt made Mickey not mind the stare down too badly, though it was the second time today he was waiting to get into trouble for something. Again, he had done nothing they could pin on him. Deny. Deny. Deny. Ian waited until he was close enough. “Are you going to fucking participate today?” Mickey looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Fuck you, Gallagher.” he spit back.

“You’re a fucking child.”

Mickey gave him the middle finger as a response. If they had been alone Ian would have taken the opportunity to knock Mickey and his cocky ass down a peg. While the other boys lined up in front of the coach Mickey walked over to a bench and sat down. Ian eyed him frustratingly. 

“Not joining us today, Mr. Milkovich?” John tried to act somewhat surprised by this. 

“I’d rather choke on a wet muff.” 

John groaned deep in his throat before leading the boys through a series of warm up stretches on the mats Ian provided. Ian eyed Mickey the whole time hoping maybe he could pressure the boy into joining in. That did not happen. Once it was time for laps John gave Ian his clipboard and stopwatch. “Do me a favor and run the boys through their laps, make sure to mark down their times. I need to go have a quick meeting.” Ian took the supplies and nodded. Was a _quick meeting_ a euphemism for something? Seemed like an odd time to just step out. Once the coach was out of earshot Ian punched Mickey hard in his shoulder. 

“Ow. Dick. That’s corporal punishment.” 

“Why are you making this so difficult? The harder his job is, the harder my job is.”

“Well you’re earning your pay, now aren’t you?”

Ian grumbled before turning his attention to the other boys who looked wearily at the interaction between the two. He got them all lined up, prepared his stopwatch, and blew his whistle- then the boys were off. 

“I swear I’m going to kick your fucking ass.” Ian mumbled beneath his breath as his eyes remained on the kids running around their field. 

“Love to see you try it, firecrotch.” Mickey responded from the bench next to him.

“Can’t suck it up for one goddamn class a week.” One of the kids hit their mark and Ian wrote down their time.

“I’d rather be buried under this field.” 

“You are goddamn child.”

“Hate it so much, punish me then.” Mickey’s words came out lower than before and Ian froze long enough to realize he missed one of the times. _Fuck_ he made an estimate and filled in the boxes on his sheet. Suddenly the two existed in silence, Mickey knew he was playing a dangerous game, one that he didn’t know if he could follow through with. The only thing Ian could think of was the words to the star spangled banner, because if the stirring in his dick became any more intense he would not be able to hide it in these shorts. Ian kept marking down the times as the boys ran but whenever there was a lull he replayed the words in his head _punish me then_. Each time he repeated it his body had a stronger reaction and it was only about 3 laps before Ian brought the clipboard down in front of his crotch to hide his erection. 

“I’m going to kill you.” He eventually mumbled red-faced, which only made Mickey laugh.

* * *

John stood in Dean Harris’s office, arms crossed while Olivia and Joan sat in the chairs across from their boss. “He doesn’t participate, he has a shitty attitude, and quite frankly, if he doesn’t do _something_ I am going to have to fail him.”

“Are you kidding me, John?” Olivie threw her hands up in aggravation, “I just had a meeting with Mr. Milkovich today praising him on work well done in his writing intensive and if you pull this shit on him now, we can forget about any progress he’s making.”

“So you want me to do what? Let him do whatever he wants, give him a passing grade, all because he wrote one decent essay? Which, if we’re being honest here, he probably didn’t even write.” Olivia’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. 

“Plagiarism is a major accusation, John.” Olivia challenged, “Do you really want to throw that at him all because he won’t play some schoolyard games?” She didn’t think so lowly of Physical Education but her job was to act as a mama bear to these boys and Olivia took her job seriously. If he wanted to act childish, she would stoop to his level, and she would win. 

“Why do I need to lower the standards of my class to appease this kid?”

Dean Harris spoke up, “Because we can’t exactly threaten to give his spot to someone else, we have no one on the waiting list.” 

All eyes shot to Joan who let out an exhaustive sigh and mumbled out, “I was new.” At this point she was sure her grave marker would be engraved with _Joan fucked up_. 

“I’m doing my part to get this kid through this program,” Olivie eyed John, “Get creative, think outside of the box, and figure it out.” With that she stood and motioned for Joan to follow her. “I have work to do and Joan doesn’t need more of your bullshit. Asking a brand new employee to take care of something, simply because none of you knew how to do it in my absence is a blatant misuse of authority.” With that Olivia walked out, Joan on her heels. John and Harris watched the door close behind the two women. They had been bested. 

“John, stay for a moment, let’s chat.” 

* * *

Class had ended and Mickey left with the other boys, which Ian was more than thankful for. If Mickey had lingered Ian would have exploded from the inside out. He and another assistant put the mats away back into a supply closet and Ian stopped into John’s office to leave the clipboard and stopwatch. He needed a shower, a long shower, a long _cold_ shower. He turned to walk out of the building just in time to see John walking up flustered. He almost didn’t see Ian as he walked in but once he did his expression eased. 

“Ian, I’m telling you. Don’t get into teaching. It’s not worth the hassle.” John grumbled walking into his office. Ian frowned. 

“What’s going on?”

“You know we offer the fast-track program for these kids, try to make it as easy for them to get through it, and turn their lives around. The problem with programs like this is that one bad mark and it all goes to hell.” John sat down at his desk and picked up the clipboard with the times Ian had written down for the boys, scanning them quickly. Mickey’s empty boxes were glaringly obvious. “So there’s this pressure on each teacher to get the kid through, can’t threaten them with failure because we can’t risk losing one of these students. Normally we’d threaten them with expulsion and replace them with someone waiting for the program but…” John sighed. “There was an incident during the summer and unfortunately we have no one to replace these kids with. The school, in no way, can lose out on the funding and the federal grant commission won’t pay up unless we end this school year with 5 graduates from the program.” Ian was taking in all the information from his rambling boss. “Every year there’s something, some issue, some problem but this is the first year the full responsibility has landed on me.” John ran his hands over his face before looking at Ian and frowning apologetically. 

“You didn’t need to hear all of that, you’re excited about this, still full of vigor for this job and I don’t want you to be discouraged.”

Ian knew exactly who John was talking about. “Is it Mickey?”

“Who?”

“Milkovich.”

“You see. Don’t even know what he goes by. If he doesn’t get it together or if I don’t figure something out in order to pass him without sacrificing my own ethical standards… I don’t know.”

Ian sat down across from John, quiet for a moment. Mickey really seemed to be trying when it came to this program. He did homework and he studied… even if just a little bit. While he claimed he was there for his dad and his scheme, there was obviously apart of Mickey that wanted this. 

Ian sighed. “What if I help him.”

John looked up eyeing Ian oddly. “In what way?”

“Mickey… he’s from my neighborhood in the Southside. Anything physical… running, wrestling, jumping is an act of survival and not performance. Micky more so than anyone else doesn’t like to be watched, studied, or analyzed - he freezes up, gets defensive, and acts out. Usually violently.” 

_They were 16, Ian was fake-dating Mandy and the three were playing video games. In a moment of weakness Ian had stared at Mickey for a few seconds too long. After a ‘What the hell are you looking at?’ from Mickey he got an elbow to the nose. It bled for almost 2 days. This obsession with the dirty kid lasted 2 months._

“You know him well.” It wasn’t a question but an observation. 

“I dated his sister.” Ian noticed a micro-expression flash over John’s face, one that read as confusion, but was quickly corrected. 

“Interesting.”

“But one thing he is, is self-serving and persistent He’ll do this, but not in front of an audience.” Ian paused. “Oh. Unless you give him a gun, give the man a gun and watch the fuck out. He’ll put on a show. It’s quite impressive actual…”

John interrupted. “Ok, I’ll bite. If you can come up with some way for him to get through this, some form of independent study, I’ll listen, I’ll try it, I’ll give him a fair shot.” Ian smiled proudly and nodded. 

“Give me until the next class, I’ll think of something.”

* * *

After class Mickey went back to his floor of the D building to shower, thoughts of Ian running through his head. Something about seeing him annoyed and flustered turned him on in a way no one had in a very long time. Standing in the shower stall, letting the water wash over his body, Mickey thought about Ian’s smile, his red hair, his long-toned body, and then finally the bulge in his pants that he had tried to conceal. As he thought about it his body buzzed with excitement and his dick began to stir. Fuck. He didn’t exactly want to rub one out in a shower stall but his options were limited. This and the baseball dugout were his only moments of privacy. Reaching down he began to stroke his dick as thoughts of Ian continued to flash through his mind. His pushups, his smile, his leaning over Mickey as he looked at his math textbook, his punch… Mickey held back a groan as his hand pumped up and down, long strokes from the base to the tip. Bringing his hand up to the cold tile wall to brace himself he grunted. Desire was building quickly, this wasn’t the time or place to hold out for some grand orgasm. _Quickly_. His insults, his annoyance, Ian telling Mickey he would kill him. _Almost_. Watching him become flustered, watching his face redden, watching him hold his clipboard over his crotch. The _tension_. Mickey came quickly and quietly into his hand, his heart racing as he stood under the hot stream of water, relief replacing desire. _Fuck_. He exhaled heavily before finishing up his shower, getting dressed, and heading to the baseball field cell phone in hand. 

“Mandy… did you give pops the low down I texted?”

“Of course I did, what would I do? Hold onto it for my health?”

“Smartass.”

“Fuckface.’

“He’s not going to pull this shit off.”

“No he’s not, but let me tell you, he thinks he’s the smartest man alive for sending you to that school.” Mickey rolled his eyes, “Acting like he’s some sort of con artist instead of the brute that he is.”

“Ian’s here.”

Mandy was silent for a moment. “Wait what? My Ian? Ian Gallagher.”

 _My Ian._ Mickey groaned. “Yeah. I guess he works here now or some shit.”

“Did he ask about me?” Mandy wouldn’t have said it, but she had missed her friend, and was upset he hadn’t tried that hard to talk to her when he was going through his bipolar stuff. 

“Yeah, I told him you were doing good.”

“Oh… good. Is he doing ok?”

“Ian? He’s working out every second I see him and he’s bossing around assholes, all with a dumb smile plastered onto his face. I’d say that he’s doing peachy fucking keen.” Mandy smiled on the other end of the phone. 

“Good. He deserves it. He kept me from getting felt up by every fucking douchebag in the neighborhood. Be nice, ok? Don’t be a dick to him. I know how you get.”

“I don’t care about him.” Mickey feigned. “Tell me that you’re doing ok.”

For a moment Mickey heard nothing but his sister breathing on the other end. 

“I hate it here, Mick. Our brothers are always here, always harassing me, giving me shit, but when they’re not here, it’s just me and dad and he drinks like a goddamn fish.” A beat. “Couldn’t you have packed me up with you?” Her voice turning vulnerable. 

“Yeah…” There he was. At this dumb fucking school, wasting his time while his sister was paying the price. What was this for? So his father could inevitably fail at yet something else? Maybe he could get in trouble, get kicked out, but deep down he knew that wouldn't fix anything, nothing ever seemed to fix anything.

“I’ll come up and visit, dad has like no fucking clue where you are so send me the address and the visiting… hours? Is it set up like prison? Just send me the information when you can.”

“You got it…” The guilt was overpowering. “I l-”

“Don’t say that shit. Talk to you later, ass-munch.”

Once the call ended Mickey pressed the phone against his forehead in irritation before chucking it into the center of the baseball field. 

"So I hate to ask, but uh… what did that phone do to you?” Ian walked up and settled next to a distressed looking Milkovich. When he didn’t respond right away Ian didn’t push. A few minutes in and two lit cigarettes later, Mickey finally spoke. 

“What am I doing here?” He ran his hands over his face and groaned. 

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “Why are you here?” That was it though, that was the entire spiral of confusion Mickey was living with. He was here for his dad, on a mission doomed for failure, leaving his sister behind. All while having Ms. Shea tell him she's proud of him, and for a brief moment, a glimmer of satisfaction had passed through him. It was confusing. It was a complete paradox of what reality was and he felt like he was going to spin out of control. It was then he felt Ian’s hand on his shoulder and in that moment he found himself grounding back to one very real fact. He wasn’t alone . 

“Mandy’s struggling, Gallagher. She’s never done well in that house, and now that I’m not there, it’s her against all of them.” While Ian didn’t know the exact details of Mandy’s life under that roof, he had been her best friend for years, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out the dynamics there. 

“Mandy’s strong. You said it yourself.”

“Yeah… she is, but fuck. She shouldn’t have to be.” Mickey dug the heel of his hand into his forehead for a moment before fixating on his smoke. They let the silence wash over them, the breeze from the night settling them a bit. Eventually Mickey sighed realizing he needed to fetch his phone. 

“I need a fucking drink.” He stood up and went after the device he threw just a few yards away. As Ian watched him he mentally made a note to make sure that when he could, he would be the one to buy him that drink. He was impressed that Mickey had even made it in this place for two weeks but it wasn’t without it’s growing pains. 

“Oh, shit man. Know that essay I turned in on Wednesday?” Mickey asked as he walked back, phone in hand, and Ian cocked an eyebrow. 

“Yeah…”

“Got a B.” The smile that lit up on Mickey’s face made Ian’s heart swell, he looked… proud. He had never seen Mickey smile like that. Ian stood and nodded a bit impressed. “Well... I helped you with that paper, and if you’re going to go around getting fucking Bs and all that I feel like I’m owed a bit of compensation.”

Mickey pulled his cigarette from his lips, his eyes raking Ian over, the look made Ian’s heart beat faster and his stomach twist. “Oh yeah?” He exhaled a stream of smoke, letting it settle around them. “Tell me what you want then.” Mickey’s breathing became a bit deeper, his eyes never leaving Ian’s. So far from the city, so far from anyone they knew, so far from his dad… if Ian made a move, Mickey wouldn’t do a thing to stop it. However, a move was never made. The two men stood there both wanting and eager, one feeling alive for the first time in years while the other suddenly needing another clipboard. The one thing they didn’t have in that moment was enough courage to push the envelope. Enough courage to push the relationship they had built over 2 weeks, to possibly ruin it for something that seemed fleeting. They stood there. Stuck. Until finally, the most fearful of the two took a step back before tossing his cigarette butt to the ground. Mickey used his thumb to scratch just above his eyebrow as he created distance between them and starting his walk back to the D Building. 

“By the way, Gallagher. Your clipboard was hot as hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two boys terrified of themselves. One terrified of making yet another mistake. One terrified of what he wants. I'm really rooting for these kids. The next chapter will be named Pierce Cooke.


	4. Pierce Cooke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just so goddamn physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one does denial like Mickey Milkovich.  
> No one does jealousy like Mickey Milkovich.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Mickey Milkovich had flirted with him. Had goaded him. Had gotten him hard. Then was ballsy enough to comment on Ian’s hardness. Their friendship was taking a turn that the redhead had never suspected. When Ian had cautiously made his way to the dugout the next evening, unsure of what he’d walk into, he was surprised that Mickey just went on and on about this kid he was casing, which Ian found particularly boring as he knew nothing would come of it. You would have thought that the awkward unresolved sexual tension from Friday hadn’t happened. What had he expected? That they’d light some candles, lay down some blankets, and just go to town on each other? Maybe. He sure had hoped. When Monday came the two smoked a joint that Mickey had swiped from some kid’s backpack, and then by Wednesday Ian had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Almost. 

Either Mickey had just been fucking with him, pushing buttons for some weird, sick satisfaction, or (and this is what Ian suspected) Mickey had been code-switching his behavior for so long it came effortlessly. It was at this point Ian was concocting a plan in his mind, a mission. **_Mission A: Confirmation that Mickey Wants Him._** He didn’t need every single detail of Mickey’s sexual fantasies, but he needed to know if the on and off sexual tension between them was real or not. Was Mickey just teasing him or was Mickey Milkovich, ball of terror, a gay man who wanted to fuck him?

After the morning Phys Ed class Ian sat down with John and shared his thoughts on the _Milkovich Situation_ , as the coach was starting to call it. Though whenever he said it, Ian thought to a completely different Milkovich situation that he was trying to get to the bottom to. “Alright, kid. Let me see what you’ve got.” John said with an air of annoyance, frustrated that he was still even having to deal with the ridiculousness of the boy who refused to participate. 

Ian was prepared, and it hadn’t been easy, each time he sat down to think about the physical education of one Mr. Milkovich his mind would tangent into strange porn plotlines that involved them in 1970s fashions. He really needed to get laid at some point. “You know that room in the back of the building with all of the old file cabinets and gym equipment? I checked out a few of the machines and yeah, they’re old, but they still work well.”

“Benefits to expensive equipment, lasts forever. Good lesson to remember.”

“Instead of having Mickey work with the other students, letting him use that equipment like his own personal lock-up gym would probably work out well. He’d get his credit in without his mountain of hang-ups.”

John mulled it over for only a few seconds. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. They won’t let me get rid of those machines yet, so putting them to some use and getting that kid out of my line of sight is a win-win situation. The only issue is, he has to be supervised. I can’t let him just hang back there all class screwing around.”

“Right now my workload is still pretty light. I help you prepare for class, break down class, I finished that research on the wrestling program for you yesterday. As much as I’m learning from assisting during the classes I wouldn’t mind supervising him during the Friday sessions.”

John eyed Ian suspiciously. Something he had done before when the subject of Mickey had come up, something Ian had yet to notice. “You’d do that?”

Ian didn’t see it as an inconvenience, “Yeah, of course.”

“Why do you want to help this kid so badly?” A straight-forward and honest question that Ian wasn’t anticipating. 

“Oh…well. I like this job a lot. I really want to show you that I’m serious about it. Also I’ve known Mickey for a while.” He paused. “I’ve seen him refuse to bathe because it made him look more intimidating, I’ve seen him drop out of school, I’ve seen his sister worry about him, I’ve seen him rob and steal, hell, I’ve been terrified of him… but I’ve never seen him try at something like…school. Not once. Sometimes I think an alien has body-snatched him. If the first time he tried at something and it went to shit, all because of a… I’m not even sure what this is… a performative issue? I don’t think he’d ever try at anything again.” _Fuck_ , John thought. That was a great answer.

“You’re going to make a great lawyer for him one day.”

Ian didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah, actually. Probably.”

_________________________________________________

When Mickey snuck across the campus that night to the dugout he arrived to find Ian laying in the grass, his eyes fixated on the sky. He felt that twinge in his stomach, the nerves that had been filling him more and more each day, the flutter he felt when he saw his face. Ian looked content and serene and something about it made him feel grounded. Walking over he nudged the guy with his boot. “What’s up there? Bigfoot?” Mickey plopped down next to him, digging his pack of smokes from his pocket. He plucked out one and brought it down to Ian’s lips for him, Ian eyed him as he performed the oddly intimate gesture. 

“Thanks.” Ian waited for Mickey to light his own cigarette before taking the lighter from him. “Not bigfoot, just long day.”

“Long day, eh? Doing what? Bossing kids around? Rimming hoops. Tossing balls. You love that shit.”

“Nah, just wasting my time keeping your ass out of trouble.” Mickey looked at him strangely. “John’s fed up with your bullshit, so in order to prevent you from getting kicked out, I’m going to start working with you one-on-one on Fridays. Just to make sure that you get this Phys Ed credit.” 

Mickey was floored. He was… what? Why? For him? To look good to his boss? He shook his head. “Waste of time, Gallagher.”

Not quite the reaction Ian was hoping for. “Tell me, how is this a waste of time?”

“Just is.” That was it. No explanation, no elaboration, nothing. As always Mickey gave him just enough to give him a taste of what he wanted, only to pull back the moment he prodded. Instead of responding, Ian reached out and shoved Mickey out of pure frustration. The brunet chuckled and shook his head. “Always so physical with you, Gallagher.” There it was, again. What did that even _mean_? Just another phrase for Ian to roll around in his head late at night until he felt like he was going insane?

“Why are you so…”

“Perfect?” Mickey smirked. 

“Hardly. More like _infuriating_. Why can’t you just say what you want to say?”

“What are you talking about, man? I always say exactly what I want to say?”

“Yeah sure, this weird thug poetry you rattle out but…”

“So you think I’m poetic.” 

Ian rolled his eyes. “I think you’re conditioned.”

Mickey ran his hands over his face before laying back on the grass. Ok, maybe the sky was kind of nice. “Whatever, man. Says the guy who gets hard for rules and routines.”

Head to toe, the two boys stared up at the darkened sky, stars staring back down at them. “At some point you’re going to have to admit that you want to fuck me.” Ian eventually said, earning him silence for the rest of their evening.

That night Mickey stood in the shower, the water running down him as he thought about Ian. He was fucking right. At some point he was going to have to make a choice. Both options seemed terrifying. Each time he looked at Ian he saw a world he could get lost into. Those eyes, that damn goofy smile, the way he was so confidently himself. Mickey wanted to touch him, to feel him beneath his hands. As intoxicating as it was, he knew once he dipped a toe into those waters his life would never be the same. The other option? Live the well-rehearsed lie of a life he had. No drama. No turbulence. No fear of his father. He softly thumped his forehead against the cold tile wall, his mind running through hesitation after hesitation before eventually reaching a point of mental paralysis. He didn’t know what to do about these feelings towards Ian. The constant struggle between what he wanted and what everyone else wanted was a game he played for years. Why couldn’t Ian just let him eye-fuck him, flirt with him, and occasionally comment on his dick without making it a _thing_?

_______________________________________________________

It was Thursday and Ian sat at a bench in the courtyard, various notepads sitting in front of him as he fleshed out some lesson plans for John. He had to admit, the fact that the guy gave him these little extra duties and was pleased with his results each time was the confidence boost that Ian needed. They had posted a sign-up sheet for the first wrestling extra-curricular program that the school has seen in decades and when Ian saw that they had at least 15 names on the list it filled him with pride and excitement. Wrestling wasn’t exactly his thing, the closest he had ever come to it was fights with Lip, but he could learn to love it if it meant solidifying his position at the academy. While it should have felt odd, being the same age as some of the kids here, he felt as if he had lived an entire lifetime by this point. All they knew were luxury hotels, fast cars, and school. Ian had the experiences of a 40 year-old Southside delinquent. Entirely different worlds.

He was reaching for his bottle of water when he heard Channing Shaw yell out, “Got a jailhouse daddy?” Ian scrunched up his face, where did this kid get this shit from? Of course it had to mean Mickey was around, and Ian followed his line of sight to see the current star of his sexual fantasies looking confused, shrug, and respond. 

“Probably back in by now, yeah.” Ian rolled his eyes. While he didn’t condone violence so close to where he hoped to develop a career, this kid needed his ass kicked so hard. At some point he would say something to hit Mickey the wrong way. He was just way too out of touch to know what that those buttons were. Ian’s eyes kept locked on the stubborn brunet and watched as he walked to his next class. **_Mission A: Confirmation that Mickey Wants Him_** seemed so far out of reach. If innuendos and flirting were all it took to solidify attraction, he’d be all set, but Ian needed him to say it or at least show it. Some sort of move. Once he did, Ian didn’t know what his next step would be, but he knew it involved seeing that angry little grump naked. His body buzzed with the idea, all Mickey had to say was three little words. _I want you._ That was it. Ian feared however that the boy was too deep into the closet. Without some sort of hard confirmation Ian didn’t want to dive head first into that mess, and deal with possibly losing his dugout ritual buddy. It wasn’t worth it. If he had to deal with flirting and jacking off for the rest of the year he’d take it. 

Once Mickey had disappeared Ian took out his phone and texted a familiar number. 

_Ian: Your brother is ridiculous_

_Mandy: What is that shit-stain doing now? Need me to kill him? I’ll kill him._

_Ian: There's a kid here who keeps trying to pick on him. But he’s so oblivious to it._

_Mandy: 😂 seems right._

_Ian: Ones too rich and ones too street. Completely different languages._

_Mandy: Other than him being a dumb-fuck. Is he doing ok?_ Ian paused thinking to a few nights back and Mickey’s voice in his head. _“What am I doing here?”_

_Ian: I don’t know. He does the work, for himself and your dad. I don’t know how he reconciles doing both. Kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop._

_Mandy: I hate to ask you this…_ Ian waited as she typed. _“… can you just keep a eye on him? So that when this all does finally catch up to him he doesn’t do something stupid and get himself landed in jail? I hate this fucking house without him enough as it is, but if he ends up in jail, I don’t know what I’ll do._

_Ian: You’ve got it._

Ian then switched over to Fiona’s profile before sending a message

_Ian: I have a favor to ask you._

__________________________________________________________

It was Friday afternoon when John asked Ian to grab the keys to the back room from his desk. It was one of the few doors in the entire school that hadn’t been updated to the key card locks and Ian needed to get the door open for his and Mickey’s session later that day. After looking through the desk he opened one of the middle drawers and his brows furrowed at what he found there. A box of condoms. _Ok._ He pushed them aside during his search for the keys but instead found a tube of lube. A rush of thoughts raced through Ian’s mind, but he pushed the drawer closed before finally finding the keys in the bottom drawer. 

When Mickey and the other boys arrived Ian directed the other 4 towards the gym while giving Mickey and cocky smile. “You’re with me today.” This caused the brunet to roll his eyes. 

“You seemed way too fucking pleased with yourself.”

“I am.” Ian said as he walked down one of the long hallways to a door that looked very much out of place around all the upgraded features.

“Listen, Gallagher, I know that I give you a hard time, but if this is where you finally get your revenge…”

“Shut up.” Ian unlocked the door and opened it to reveal a room with old gym equipment and some filing cabinets. “Not too bad?”

They walked in, Ian keeping the door open as per the coach’s instructions. Mickey circled around some of the machines and shrugged. “I think this shit’s newer than what’s in juvie, man. Fucking rich people, take perfectly good shit, shove it in a closet to collect dust.” Mickey laid back on the bench press gripping the barbell and lifting it up. “So this is it? I lift some weight, do some fucking leg presses and I’m in the clear?”

“Pretty much, do the bare minimum and John will be satisfied.”

“No strings attached? I don’t have to write an essay on why I am an asshole? Don’t have to suck your dick for a _B_?”

“Oh the dick sucking is entirely optional, and let’s be honest, can’t guarantee a grade on that one…” Mickey felt a rush of heat run through him and he looked up towards the open door cautiously before looking back at Ian’s perfect face and giving him a wink. Ian rolled his eyes, if Mickey could be half as expressive with his words as he was his face they’d be a little further along in Ian’s new revised mission **_Mission B: See Mickey Naked_**. Speaking of….

“Oh shit, want to hear about something really weird I found earlier?” His eyes flickered to the doorway. “I was digging around in John’s desk drawers…”

Mickey’s face contorted in disgust. “I hope that’s not fucking code for you banging the gym coach, man.”

“Yeah because if I were fucking the gym coach I’d only be telling you about it now. Shut the fuck up. He had a pack of condoms and lube… it was just odd. The guy has a pregnant wife.”

“Maybe they used to fuck on his deck or something.” Mickey rationalized as he continued a set. He was obviously not that interested in the coach's sex life. 

“I guess… we’ve been here almost a month and I’ve never seen her before. Doesn’t seem like she’s big on visiting. Also … what’s with the condoms if his wife is pregnant?”

“Man, who knows, and most importantly who cares. Maybe he’s fucking a student or something. Live and let live, am I right?” That grossed Ian out. 

“Fucking a student? Pretty sure he can’t do that…” Mickey refrained from saying _I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you want to do._

“People do that shit all the time, firecrotch. I fucked a teacher.” Ian froze, where had that piece of information been all his life?

“You what!?” he exclaimed jaw dropped.

“Shut the fuck up, man. Open door. Jesus, Gallagher.” No ounce of damn discretion. 

“Says the guy with the dick sucking comment. When did you fuck a teacher…” It was then it occurred to Ian that this could have possibly happened here at the academy. The idea made him stiffen up. If he was really playing this back and forth bullshit with Mickey while he some banging someone else, all while Ian was getting hot and bothered, clawing and scratching for a fucking ounce of _anything_ from him. 

Mickey could see the array of thoughts playing out on Ian’s face. “Relax, freckles. Back when I was 15, fucked one of the middle school teachers.” he set the bar bell in place before sitting up and turning to look at the guy who was aghast in front of him.

“Who was it?” Ian wanted every detail, he wanted to know why, how, when, and where this all went down. Mostly because he was shocked but also because he was dying to know some of Mickey’s sexual history after how tightly wound he seemed to be after any sort of sexual interaction. Also… male or female?

Mickey smiled mischievously, and Ian groaned knowing instantly what that look meant. Anyone who grew up in circumstances like theirs knew that type of look. That look meant that Mickey was realizing he had something of value. “You want to know so fucking bad, don’t you?”

Ian’s head dropped in defeat, his hands resting on his hips. “Yes, yes I do.”

“What will you give me for it?” Mickey clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his eyes on Ian, his gaze darkening. _Oh no, not_ ** _that_** _look._ That look meant Ian was about to get a case of blue balls. 

“By now I think you know good and well what you can get out of me, Mick.”

“Alcohol.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah alcohol. I haven’t had a drink since I’ve been here and I’m going fucking nuts, man. If you are personally responsible for getting a drink into my hand I will give you all the gritty details of how I seduced and fucked a middle school teacher.”

Ian didn’t know when and he didn’t know how, but he was going to make this happen. “Deal.”

The two managed to get through their first session together without anymore sexual tension, violence, or name calling. A rarity but Ian realized if he could get Mickey to sweat, the guy kept his mouth shut and Ian was able to longingly stare at his nice legs and loose gym shorts. 

__________________________________________________________

That night Mickey and Ian were together smoking while Mickey laid underneath one of the benches carving his name into the underside. He had tried to do it on top but Ian told him it was a bad idea. “Tomorrow I’m helping with the wrestling meet-up.” Ian explained to the only half of Mickey he could see. 

“Gonna get pinned down, Gallagher? All hot and sweaty with the hairless bodies of teenagers on top of you?”

“Maybe.” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to come watch?” Mickey was still for a moment. 

“Sure. Why the hell not? Maybe someone will finally knock your ass down a peg and you’ll stop being so damn cocky. I’d love to see it.”

Moving his lit cigarette to his lips Ian reached down and grabbed at Mickey’s midsection causing the kid to jump. “Hey! Fucking stop it. Fine you’re not cocky. Reasonable fucking ego on you.” Ian rolled his eyes. 

“Some of the kids who are joining up are really fucking hot.” Ian was goading. “Not that I’d drip my pen in company ink, so to speak, but… having someone you can’t fuck flirt and bat their eyelashes at you… fuels the jets.”

“And you say I’m gross.” Mickey grumbled from beneath the bench. 

“You are 500 times more gross than I am in literally all instances that have ever existed.”

“Dramatic.” Mickey continued on his property damaging task. “Well considering your invisible roommate, who I’m still saying doesn’t exist, hasn’t made it face to face with you. You have all the time and space you need to beat the meat.” Ian hadn’t even considered what it was like having 2 roommates until that moment. “I’m rub and tugging in the shower, not ideal.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Just so hot and bothered? Man, I wonder why that is. Need to find you another form of release.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gallagher.”

_____________________________________

Mickey sat in the bleachers of the gym the next day, his biology book sitting in front of him with 3 worksheets he had to complete. Part of him wondered if he blew Ian if he would finish these for him. Or he could always just threaten one of his roommates, they seemed nerdy from the limited interactions he had had with them. The wrestling meet-up seemed to be going well from his vantage point. The coach ran through a few moves, Ian would often be used to demonstrate, kids would repeat, seemed simple. Mickey had started a motivational game where every time he answered a question on his worksheet he got to stare at Ian’s crotch through his gym shorts. It seemed to be working because he had finished his first sheet and was starting on the second by the time the whistle was blown for a water break. 

The boys ran to get their water bottles when John approached Ian, “This is going well.” Ian nodded agreeably.

“Yeah, they seem into it. Who knows, maybe this will be Bernardo Francisco Academy’s next great sport.” John nodded. 

“Yeah, maybe. So, uh, what’s up with that Milkovich kid?” He asked nodding towards his once pain-in-the-ass sitting in the bleachers. 

“Oh - I told him about this new venture during our session yesterday and he seemed curious so I invited him to hang out and watch.” John eyed Ian before looking over to Mickey. These kids were going to be the death of him, he could sense it. 

“Ok, just make sure he doesn’t distract the other students.” Ian suppressed an eye roll and once John walked away Ian moved up the bleachers to join Mickey. Neither said a word, both wrapped up in their thoughts, but when Mickey handed Ian a bottle of water he took it without hesitation. After a few minutes Ian spoke up. 

“John’s suspicious.”

“Of what?” Mickey asked eyes still locked on his homework. Denial really did look good on him.

“Of whatever we’re up to.”

“We are not _up to_ anything.” His eyes flickered over to the redhead for a moment. 

“Mhmm…” was all Ian said before setting down the bottle of water as the coach walked out, blowing the whistle to gather everyone back to the gym floor. Mickey looked over to the coach as Ian climbed down the bleachers, the coach’s eyes were briefly on him.

Practice was over about an hour later and everyone seemed in good spirits as they left the gym. Mickey shoved his worksheets into his biology book and as he was walking outside he noticed a kid talking to Ian. He was Ian’s height, dark hair, olive skin-toned, and freakishly good-looking. As if he walked right off the cover of GQ Italy, this kid had a marble face and the body to back it up. He was chattering on to Ian, his dark eyes looking at the redhead as if he was the second coming of Christ. Ian was leaned in, engaged, listening intently to whatever the kid was saying and then a grin broke out on Ian’s face and he laughed. Mickey frowned. _The fuck is this?_ It was then Ian looked over, eyes meeting Mickey’s, after a beat Ian’s hand came up to the boy’s shoulder. _This kid has to die._

Then a group of boys walking away yelled out. “Pierce, let’s go!” and then another followed, “Cooke, we’ve got places to be.” Pierce Cooke. As Mickey started towards Ian he closed in on the group of boys and making it look accidental he body checked the kid, knocking hard into his shoulder with his own. “Hey, man, watch out.” The Italian God snapped. Mickey looked at Ian judgmentally as the other guy looked onto him innocently. 

“What’s your deal, Milkovich?” Ian feigned confusion. 

“Standing a bit close, you think?”

“To you?”

“To him.” He nodded his head into the general direction of where the boys had left to. 

“Not everyone is terrified of physical proximity, Mickey.”

Mickey looked at Ian, quiet for a moment. Did people just do that? Stand so close? Talk to each other so intimately?

“I don’t know what fucking world you’re living in.” he grumbled under his breath, fuck he needed a smoke. “See ya later, asshole.” Ian watched as Mickey stalked off to smoke or do homework. He couldn’t but smile to himself a bit, had he just pushed a button?

____________________________

Ian sat on the grass just in front of the dugout and was about to light a smoke when he felt a body slam into him, knocking him over and landing his cigarette just out of reach. “The fuck, Mickey?!” Ian pushed the brunet off of him before climbing on top and straddling the Ukrainian. Just as Mickey went to shove him Ian grabbed his wrists pinning them over his head and staring down at the blue eyes looking back at him. 

“What the fuck?” Ian should of known better because Mickey threw his head up, knocking Ian off of him and landing Mickey back in the top position. “What. The. _Fuck_.” He grumbled a third time, eyes closed, his head now pounding from the unexpected headbutt. Mickey didn’t respond, he didn’t have an explanation for his annoyance towards Ian, at least not one that didn’t sound absolutely psychotic. When Ian opened his eyes and looked up at the boy on top of him he couldn’t help but smile. Pierce Cooke had gotten to him, and not only that, but was Mickey reacting to it. He had an angry, jealous, grump on top of him breathing heavily, passion in his eyes, and Ian instantly felt hot. Mickey didn’t say a word, he just stared down at the redhead beneath him, his green eyes staring back at him playfully. How could this kid have an already forming bruise and welt on his forehead and still look so pleased with himself? In a bold move Ian bucked his hips, pressing his growing bulge against the man on top of him.

Mickey’s eyes shuttered closed momentarily and then before Ian knew what was happening his jeans were being unbuttoned and he felt hands tugging at them. Heart rate accelerating Ian tried to grab for Mickey, to kiss him, to touch him, _anything_ , but the brunet pulled back just enough to avoid his hands. Mickey pushed Ian’s pants down to his thighs, just far enough to reach a warm hand in and grasp his erection. _Finally_. Ian’s eyes fluttered shut and tilting his head back against the grass he groaned as Micky began stroking him. “Fuck.” He breathed. 

Mickey’s eyes kept locked on Ian. His eyes, his lips, and when he ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, he watched the contorting of his face. Ian’s breath labored and his eyes opened taking in what was happening. The person he had crushed on as a teen, the person he had fantasized about all month, was on top of him, stroking him, staring at him like he was the only thing in the world. Ian wanted to grab him, to kiss him to touch him, but each time he tried, Mickey pulled just out of his reach again and again. “Fuck you.” He moaned out and Mickey’s intensity dropped a bit as a smile graced his face, his strokes becoming hurried and his arousal evident through his pants. Ian’s pleasure was building more and more with each pump of Mickey’s hand and just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to take it any longer they heard the beep and static of a hand radio. The boys paused, eyes darting around to see the source of the noise. Mickey’s hand stopped, forcing an involuntary “No.” from Ian, which resulted in Mickey’s other hand clamping down on the redhead’s mouth. Finally they saw the light from a flashlight coming around the Phys Ed building, followed by the sound of boots. Within a flash the boys untangled themselves and whether it was habit or instinct they scattered and fled. 

Ian managed to get back to his building and room in record speed, his roommate predictably absent. He looked down at his unzipped pants and his throbbing bulge then without a second thought pushed his pants off and went to his nightstand to retrieve a small bottle of lotion. Squirting some into his hand he sat on the edge of his bed and began to stroke himself. It didn’t take long to pick up where Mickey had left off. He closed his eyes thinking about the brother of his best friend. His dark hair, his blue eyes, his inability to understand bullying, _oh god_ , his flirting, his winks, his caution, _almost_ , his tackling, his headbutt, his jealousy. Ian came hard and quickly into his hand, his body suddenly relaxed, his breathing trying to return to normal. He grabbed a few tissues from his nightstand to clean himself up. _Fuck_. He tossed the tissues into the trash can before grabbing his pants and digging his phone out of his pocket. 

_1 message. Micky Milkovich._

_Mickey: 💦_

**_Mission A: Confirmation that Mickey Wants Him. COMPLETE._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love fics where they get to exist in their own safe little bubbles because once they have to deal with the outside world it's always just so sobering. Next chapter is titled Mandy Milkovich.


	5. Mandy Milkovich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two get just a little closer... also there are kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. I have no friends :)  
> Also, no one asked for this, but I created the layout of the school in Microsoft Paint (so you know it's good) https://annatrow.tumblr.com/post/642201700403462144/using-my-poor-artistic-abilities-along-with

When Ian woke the next morning the activities of the night before flashed through his mind. A strange hand-job assault and Mickey Milkovich on top of him with a look of wanting in his eyes. Thinking about it made his blood rush and Ian was sure it would be a highlight one day when his life flashed before his eyes. Of course it would have been even better if Mickey had been able to finish him off. How had he known Mickey all this time, and he was only now crawling into his skin? As he got dressed that morning, he formulated a plan. He had to get back at Mickey Milkovich. The plan had started off as a simple one: **_locate target, apprehend, revenge_**. He left the F building at around 11:00 am and he casually walked to the courtyard. Ian scanned the area before his eyes settled on the D building. Ian knew that Mickey didn’t like to linger around in his room, finding his roommates annoying and overly talkative. If he had to guess he’d wake up, get out as soon as possible, get food, and then creep around the campus for the rest of the day. All Ian had to do was out-creep Mickey. Luckily he didn’t have to wait too long, as predictable as an old man, Mickey walked out of the D building and headed towards the cafeteria. Ian, gearing up for his morning of stalking, was about to follow when a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder. He turned to see John. Strange, after all it was a Sunday.

“Oh! Hey, John.” Ian said looking past the man as his eyes focused on his target.

“Hey Ian. Do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you about something.” John gestured to a nearby table to which Ian sat down at without much of a thought. “Are you… ok? You have a…” He gestured towards the swelling and forming bruise on Ian’s forehead.

“Oh sure, what’s up… oh yeah, you know, walking and texting. What can you do?” Watching over John’s shoulder he saw as Mickey seemed to disappear behind a group of kids. _Fuck!_

“So I noticed yesterday that after wrestling practice you and Pierce Cooke were having a seemingly nice conversation.”

Ian just nodded his head, “Yeah?” _And?_

“You’re a nice guy and I know it must be odd being the same age as some of the students. They are bound to see you as an equal and less as an authority figure.”

“Oh? I haven’t really thought about it.” It was clear Ian was distracted, his eyes scanning the courtyard waiting for any sign of Mickey.

“I think the kid has a crush on you, Ian. Which, won’t be the last time this will happen. Kids, with thier hormones and emotions can become manipulative. When it comes to boarding schools this is a hazard of our job, unfortunately. It is important to remember the position that you are in…” Bam. Spotted. Milkovich. Sandwich in hand as he circled around the courtyard watching the other students. Being cased as he was casing others, how poetic. “…students may come on to you, hit on you, even proposition you. It will happen much more than you think it will. It’s important to remember that in any sort of power position, even with comparable ages, anything between a staff member and a student is inappropriate.” John sighed, knowing he was having a conversation with a very distracted young man. “You may think that this is a strange conversation… actually I know it is. However, it is one that ends up having to be had with every staff member at some point eventually. It’s always awkward, but… it’s the position we’re in.” It was then Ian snapped out of his recon-mission.

“Wait? What? A student?” He looked at John as if he had grown two heads. “Oh no, I’m not really into that,” He assured his boss. “Yeah, Cooke is good looking and all of that, but they’re all kind of the same, you know? You meet one rich kid, you’ve met them all. Even if I were the type to put my job at risk like that, this isn’t exactly what I’m into. Trust me, I don’t have any interest in pursing students.”

John nodded and smiled relieved. While he knew this was a fated conversation for everyone who worked at the academy, John had his concerns with Ian. He was such a great employee and was clearly passionate about the job, he didn’t want something getting in his way. “I’m glad to hear that. My mentor had the same conversation when I started, and in the world today it’s just something we have to consider.” Mickey was finishing up his sandwich and Ian saw him circling around the D Building. _Perfect_.

“I appreciate it.” Ian stood, his eyes locked on his target. “See you tomorrow.” And with that Ian was off to stalk his prey. John watched Ian make a bee-line for the dark-haired student and sighed. If he dropped dead from a stroke, it would be because of those kids.

Ian knew that Mickey was sneaking behind the building to smoke and all he had to do was cut him off, and finally as he rounded the building from the other side Ian saw Mickey before he saw him. Walking up quickly he gave him a hard shove from behind, causing the kid to almost trip.

“The fuck!” Mickey turned to see Ian and without any hesitation pushed him back. “Gallagher?” With a smile forming on his lips, Ian grabbed Mickey by the shoulders and shoved him hard against the back of the brick building. A rush of heat between the two, Mickey was about to tell him to fuck off but before he could, Ian was kissing him. Mickey was shocked at first but Ian’s lips against his felt good, _really good_ , and his body was already reacting to the redhead pressed against him. It took his brain a moment to catch up but Mickey soon began to kiss back, relaxing against Ian. His hands grabbed the man by the waist, holding onto him, as Ian slid his hand to the back of Mickey’s neck. The kiss was long, deep, and hot. Mickey’s fingers gripped Ian’s hips harder pulling desperately, something ignited inside of Mickey and he wanted Ian’s body as tightly pressed against his as possible. Ian’s fingers caressed the nape of Mickey’s neck as their tongues fought for dominance, his other hand pushing up and under Mickey’s shirt, feeling his skin against his fingers. 

_Fuck me against the wall. Fuck me against the wall._ Mickey’s body screamed as his hands slid up from Ian’s waist and he began to claw at the man’s back wanting more. 

Ian’s lips abandoned Mickey’s but before the boy could protest they were on his neck; Ian’s tongue snaking out to taste his skin, it was salty and sweaty and not being enough, he began to gently bite at his flesh. Mickey shuddered, knees weakening as his hands came up and he slid his fingers through Ian’s hair. He tried to speak, tried to say anything but nothing came out, his brain no longer able to form thoughts. If Mickey was this incapacitated by lips on a neck, he knew whatever game he and Ian were playing was going to light his life on fire. 

Ian brought his hands down between them and began to unbuttoned Mickey’s pants, one hand sliding past his boxers and gripping his erection. He was finally touching Mickey, fucking _finally_. Ian bit at the pale flesh of Mickey’s neck, the puddle of a man against him right now was completely moldable to whatever Ian wanted. The control was intoxicating. He continued to nip, suck, and lick- the moans and breathy gasps that came out of Mickey making him hard. His hand worked the boy over, long measures strokes gaining speed the more Mickey seemed to unravel. Ian’s actions were dizzying his body now and completely utterly belonging to Ian Gallagher, his mouth, and his hands. As his strokes became more urgent, Ian began mumbling against Mickey’s neck, his almost painful kisses now becoming a series of _so hot, fuck, Mick, god_. That was it. Mickey was a goner. After a brief stream of “Uhnhhh.. ah… fuck…” Mickey finally came with _Ian_ falling breathlessly from his lips as he released into the redheads hand, a few more strokes from Ian making sure Mickey was fully finished. Neither of them moved right away, Mickey needed a moment to collect himself, while hoping his brain would eventually make it’s way back to the party. Ian was the first to straighten up, using the inside of Mickey’s boxers to wipe his hand clean and backing away. Mickey looked at him as if he were the devil in disguise. 

“That’s how to give a fucking hand-job.” Ian said doing his best to sound pointed and cocky instead of the rattled mess he was inside. Smirking, Ian began to walk away leaving Mickey there, behind the building, to collect himself.

It was only a few minutes later that Ian received a text.

_1 message. Micky Milkovich._

_Mickey: You are a dead man._

Once he was back in his room Ian had to take a moment. He had given quite a few hand jobs in his life. They were quick, messy, juvenile, and a little low-brow. However, his most recent run ins with Mickey were changing his mind, maybe they were hotter than he realized. 

________

_1 message. Mandy Fuckface_

_Mandy: I’ve given like 3 of your jobs to dad and he’s just sitting on them._

_Mickey: Of course he is. This was a bad fucking idea._

_Mandy: Call it a day, and come the fuck home._

_Mickey: Tell dad to get on it and to stop wasting my time._

________

Mickey sat in the courtyard staring at his writing assignment, pencil tapping against the table as he stared at the blank sheet. How the fuck was he supposed to focus on this while his dick had just been accosted in a drive-by hand job? _Fucking Gallagher._ He stared at the essay topic **Describe a rite of passage you’ve completed and what it meant to you.** _Dumb_. What did that even mean? What could he possibly talk about that wasn’t going to incriminate himself or someone in his family. First gun? First juvie stint? First beat down? First trial? First paid-sex. First non-paid sex. What was he supposed to talk about? Out of all of his classes he actually didn’t mind writing. He was able to think about these things and put them down into sentences which made the thoughts in his head make a little more sense. Telling people things were terrifying, writing them down… not as bad. 

His mind flashed to Ian; his mouth, his teeth, his lips, his hands, his body shoved against his and he began to feel heated. Mickey grumbled a bit as his body started to react to the memories. He didn’t need another jack-off session in the showers so he willed his body to relax. Taking a deep breath, he began scribbling things down; words and thoughts. The ramblings of a man who was just come into another man’s hand against a brick building early in the morning. He knew he wasn’t going to give this to anyone, so he quickly grabbed a new piece of paper and decided on something easy **My First Gun**. However, he was only a few sentences in when he looked up to see that Channing Shaw kid picking on another student, only this time, successfully. What was that douchebag’s deal? He really needed someone to kick his ass. 

_________

Ian was sitting in the cafeteria working on a Caesar chicken salad when his phone dinged. 

_1 message. Mandy Milkovich._

_Mandy: Hey_ _prettyface_ _._ Ian saw the message and smiled. 

_Ian: Sup Mands?_

_Mandy: So Fiona asked me for a very interesting favor today_

_Ian: Oh… really?_

_Mandy: She said that with Lip being gone and you being gone, Debbie being wild, that she really needs help keeping the household together_

_Ian: Interesting_

_Mandy: Isn’t it? She asked if I’d want hang around your house when I’m not working. Another older figure around and all that for your siblings._

_Ian: Are you going to take her up on it?_

_Mandy: Probably. But I’m curious as to where she got the idea that I’d be interested in such a thing… you haven’t been talking to Mickey, have you?_

Talking. Flirting. Sexually harassing. 

_Ian: What?_

_Mandy: He’s not going around telling people my fucking business, is he? Because if he is, I’m killing you both._

Fuck.

_Ian: He told me you were having a hard time with him being away. That’s all._

_Mandy: Well ok. I’m kind of pissed but also grateful. Though I forgot his birthday so I can only berate him a little. Fucking douche._

_Ian: Birthday?_

_Mandy: Yeah the guy can now be tried as an adult 100% of the time- since about two weeks ago. Makes me nervous around all those rich-fucks, they’re so cop-happy. I’d like to keep him out of prison for as long as possible._

_Ian: I’ll keep an eye on the Pitbull, Mands_

Ian really needed his friend right now. But he also really needed his friend not to be Mickey’s sister. However, his options were limited. Lip and Fiona were just waiting for another fuck up, so the idea of talking to them about anything seemed like a bad idea. 

_Ian: So I actually need your advice. I’m starting to sort of see a guy from nearby the school. He’s obviously into me. Flirts, says sexual shit, shoves his hand down my pants… but he’s like a deer in the headlights the moment I’m the one making the moves. Any fucking clue what could be up?_

_Mandy: He out?_

_Ian: No. Deeply no. So far into the closet he’s lost behind old shoes._

_Mandy: Yikes… are you sure you want to deal with that?_

_Ian: Yes._

_Mandy: Passion on point, I take it_

_Ian: Oh god, yes. I’ve never wanted to throw someone down so fucking hard._ He hung his head a bit thinking about the sounds of Mickey moaning and coming against him. 

_Mandy: Relax Romeo. If he’s that closeted he probably isn’t as experienced as you, right? Every little thing you two do may be new for him. Have you two talked about sexual history?_

_Ian: That could be it, but I’m not sure. And no, no history. I’m currently working on bribing it out of him._

_Mandy: Well, on the off chance he’s never been in anything serious… If no ones ever wanted him the way you do, and vise_ _versa_ _, the whole thing may just be a bit shocking to his system._

_Ian: Yeah, you’re probably right._

_Mandy: Just don’t push too hard. Give him time to get comfortable. But you also don’t owe it to anyone to guide them out of the closet. Just like they don’t owe it to you to get out of it. Just make sure you want to go through this. Don’t need that pretty face of yours all heartbroken over a guy who won’t be out with you. I will cut off his dick for you._

_Ian: How are you so smart?_

_Mandy: Who knows, sure as hell isn’t genetic._

At the moment though, Ian didn’t care about being out with Mickey. The only thing he cared about was when he’d smile, the noises he made, his eyes when he was turned on, and the few times he seemed carefree in his presence. Plus, his dick in his hand really nailed the coffin shut on this one. 

________

Ian was finishing up his work in the courtyard when he spotted Mickey leaning against the F building looking suspicious. He was looking around, scratching his forehead, he was a fidgety fucker sometimes. He bet he could go over there right now, have a repeat of the morning. Then another kid walked up, 15 maybe 16 years old and with the slickness of a bear he handed Mickey a wad of bills. After a quick count of the money, Mickey handed the kid a small bag of pills. _What. The. Fuck_. Ian was up and moving and it didn’t take long to catch Mickey before he walked away. 

“Are you fucking serious, right now?” Mickey looked up a little thrown before noticing it was Ian and rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever, man.” He circled behind the building Ian hot on his tail. 

“No. You can’t fucking sell drugs to kids, much less badly… much less in the open.” He just told Mandy he’d keep an eye on him and after their text chat the idea of Mickey sitting in jail or prison caused a weird new anxiety that Ian did not need added to his laundry list of mental burdens. 

“Not my finest moment but if I had given him any harder instructions it would have been much more obvious." Mickey rationalized. 

Ian tossed his stuff down on the grass before taking the opportunity to shove Mickey. The language of the Southside. He wanted the guy to pay attention, to wake up, to snap out of it. “Earth to Mickey Milkovich.”

“Fucking, what?” Mickey grumbled frustrated that Ian was trying to make this a much bigger deal than it actually was. “What? Why are your panties in such a fucking twist over some pills. Not like I’m selling them meth or cocaine… though I think there's probably plenty of coke floating around here. Just some Adderall, relax freckles.”

“My panties are in a twist…” He was so frustrating! Ian gave him another push, trying to release some of his annoyance with the man .“Because…what do you want?” Ian finally asked. 

“What?” What the fuck kind of question was that?

“What. Do. _YOU_. Want. Here. Life. Yourself.” Bigger fucking picture, snap out of it, Milkovich. 

Mickey was flustered at the question, who cared about what he wanted, “Stop asking such stupid fucking questions.” You can’t just accost a man and ask him dumb fucking questions like that. Randomly, out of nowhere. 

“What do you want?” Ian wasn’t backing down. 

“The job, casing kid—” He was immediately stopped by the worked up redhead in front of him.

“No. That’s what your dad wants. What do _you_ want?”

Mickey paused, leaning against the back of the building, and in a total mood shift that Ian was not expecting, Mickey’s eyes raked up and down the angry gym assistant in front of him. Ian noticed instantly and shook his head. 

“No. I mean… _yes_ ok. Obviously that’s a shared interest but _no_. What do you want that isn’t about your dad, your sister, your brothers…even, you know.” He gestured awkwardly between them. “You need to figure out what you want for yourself, Mick because all this work you’re putting in means jack-shit if you’re running for everyone else.” Mickey stood there. Since when was what he wanted a fucking option? No one had ever asked him what he wanted. What life did he even have in front of him? Just like everyone in this academy, life was pre-destined. It was the roll of the dice. A bag of what you’re born into and the role that the system has for you. 

Ian, frustrated by Mickey’s silence began to walk away. Mickey grumbled out a “Wait.” Ian stopped. “Can’t just… say shit like that and walk away.” Ian sighed and smiled sympathetically.

“No pressure man, I get it.” This wasn’t about him or fucking or closets or gayness. This was about Mickey not having an identity apart from his fucked up family. Ian would play whatever game they were playing sexually, that didn’t bother him, but he liked Mickey too much to see him live up to all of his sister’s worse nightmares. Tethered to the whims of a homophobic, Nazi, abuser, of a father. Especially when he saw him trying to be something else. Ian picked up his belongings before walking back to his room. Twice in one day, leaving Mickey behind a building, more confused than when he got there. 

________

Thank god it had been John O’Hannigan. If it had been literally anyone other than John O’Hannigan Mickey would have been fucked. The man was there on a Sunday to wrap up some work so that he could leave early the next day to take his wife to a prenatal doctor’s appointment. He was walking through the courtyard when a piece of paper caught his eye, the wind holding it tightly to a random bush. John grabbed it, prepared to ball it up and throw it in the trash until a few of the words caught his eye. Stopping in the middle of the courtyard he read the badly scratched out paragraph. A mix of emotions running through him as he did; confirmation, confusion, empathy, happiness, and doom. The name _M. Milkovich_ scribbled into the corner wasn’t needed for John to know exactly who wrote this. Folding up the piece of paper he shoved it into his pocket. Thank god it had been John O’Hannigan.

________

Ian walked up to the dugout that night to find Mickey laying back on one of the benches, eyes on the sky. He leaned over the man and kissed him, Mickey hesitated at first but began to return the kiss, his hand coming up to slide through Ian’s hair. His stomach was getting really good at that damn butterfly feeling. 

“Not pissed anymore?” Mickey asked when the kiss broke and he sat up, his hand sliding down the front of Ian’s shirt feeling the muscles beneath it. He wondered what Ian would do if he were to just lift up his shirt at that moment. 

“Still pissed.” Ian confirmed a bit coldly clearly hiding something behind his back. “One because obviously selling drugs on campus is dumb as fuck...” Mickey didn’t realize he was going to get a lecture over this. “What made me even more mad, was the fact Mandy informed me it was your birthday 2 weeks ago. So. Let’s recap.” _Oh no, please don’t recap._ “Selling drugs on campus, which can get you expelled. Not only that but being a fully grown adult selling drugs to underaged minors, can land you in prison.” He was never going to hear the end of this. “Thirdly, and most importantly. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me it is your birthday?” Mickey tried seeing what was behind Ian’s back. 

“I’m not fighting with you about this.” Mickey explained simply. “I’m a Milkovich. What else do you expect me to do? We sell stolen shit to people who want it. Done. Simple. Also, I hate to break it to your delicate nature, Gallagher, but I’m going to end up in jail. No two ways about it. It’s destined. Least I can do is make a little money before I do. Finally, it’s not my birthday. It _was_ my birthday. Now, most importantly, what the fuck is behind your back?” Ian rolled his eyes before revealing a cupcake, and then reaching into his pocket he pulled out a joint. 

“Turns out the kitchen staff not only has cupcakes for sell, which you would know if you didn’t live out of the sandwich station, but they also sell pot... though much less openly than the cupcakes,” Mickey grinned and reached out for the joint just in time for Ian to pull it back. “Promise no more selling drugs to the students.”

“Says the guy giving drugs to a student.”

“You’re not a fucking student.” Ian grumbled as Mickey took the joint and brought it between his lips before lighting it up and taking a much needed inhale after the stressful day he had had. First he was accosted, then pushed around, wrote a dumb essay, and then yelled at by his angry redheaded whatever he was. 

“Fuck man…” Mickey sighed appreciatively before handing the joint over to Ian. Ian took it, his eyes not leaving Mickey. So were they really going to not talk about the fact Mickey came into Ian’s hand today, or what?

“So are we going to talk abou—”

“Nope.” They could do it. They couldn’t talk about it. Talking about things made them real. Created consequences. Mickey wasn’t ready for that. 

There it was. Ian sighed annoyed. No one knew how to compartmentalize like Mickey _fucking_ Milkovich. So they were just going to go around kissing each other and feeling each other up without a single word? Cool.

“I hate you.” Ian exhaled a stream of smoke before passing it back to Mickey. The brunet grabbed Ian by the shirt and pulled him close before kissing him slowly and deeply, Ian relaxing as he ran his hand over Mickey’s neck his fingers brushing over a forming bruise he saw as the kiss broke. Oh if he hadn’t seen that yet, when he did, Ian was going to be in trouble. 

As they pulled away Mickey ran his hand over the welt on Ian’s forehead from the night before. “You look good roughed up.”

“You should see the other guy.” He reached up poking Mickey’s inflamed forehead.

“Ow. Dick.” Mickey grabbed the cupcake container and popped it open. “I can’t believe you brought a cupcake. You’re fucking corny as hell.”

“How is cake on your birthday, corny? What else do you do?”

“I don’t fucking know, man.” He pulled a piece off before shoving it in his mouth, the sugar making his mouth water. “Thanks, though.” Ian smiled. 

“Mhmm…” Ian grabbed a piece for himself and the boys sat there smoking and eating cake in the most casual birthday celebration Ian could imagine. “You’re welcome.” Later that evening they were laying on the ground, comfortably in silence, passing the almost complete joint between them. It was then Ian realized he was constantly seeing Mickey with something in his mouth, usually a smoke, a joint, food, most recently Ian’s tongue. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you have an oral fixation?”

“Are you coming onto me, Gallagher?” Ian rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not into that fruity shit.” Ian reached over punching the guy in the chest. Mickey smirked and without a word he rolled over climbing on top of Ian, the move was unexpected and Ian froze up a bit. Mickey’s lips were on Ian’s in their 4th kiss, because yes, he was counting. 4, all that day. He thought maybe the intensity of the first one was a fluke, then the second one was quick, the third confirmed it though, he really fucking liked kissing Ian. The redhead returned the kiss with no hesitation, and within seconds it became heated. Ian’s hands were on Mickey’s face, making sure that he didn’t suddenly up and leave as their lips feverishly worked together. Mickey’s hands reached down and unbuttoned Ian’s pants, pushing them down along with his boxers freeing his dick. He stroked Ian slowly as he grew harder in his hand, moaning into their kiss. 

Mickey tried to move downward but Ian’s grip was making it difficult, “Let me go, you fuck.” he grumbled against the other’s mouth. Ian reluctantly did so and Mickey kissed his chin before moving downward, his hand pushing up Ian’s shirt so that he could bite the flesh of his torso. He left little red bite marks all the way down his abs and stomach before taking the tip of his dick into his mouth. 

“Holy shit.” Ian groaned, his head tilting back as Mickey used one hand to stroke the base and his tongue swirled over the head. Ian slid his fingers through Mickey’s dark hair while his other gripped at the grass beneath them. Mickey’s removed his hand from Ian and slid it up over his chest as he took him fully into his mouth, easy at first to test his limitations before getting more comfortable. As he figured out what worked Mickey began experimenting with his tongue, his lips, and his free hand. It wasn’t long before Ian was starting to shake beneath him, and he began to tug on Mickey’s hair as a warning. “Mick…” he choked out and when Mickey caressed his chest encouragingly, that was all Ian needed before his release. Mickey made sure to keep his mouth on him as he shook and buzzed beneath him, swallowing everything Ian gave him. Spent, clouded, and out of breath Ian grabbed Mickey by his jacket and pulled him up until his lips met his in another needy kiss but it didn’t last long as Mickey was pulling away and standing up. Ian laid there, dick still out, body wanting nothing more than to relax against the grass. He groaned a bit when Mickey grabbed his hand and began pulling him up. Ian pulled up his pants and zipped them up when he went to grab Mickey. He wanted more. However, the boy avoided his grasp. _Not this fucking shit._

“Really?” Ian asked annoyed as the guy who just had his dick in his mouth was backing up as if they didn’t know each other. “Seriously?” 

Mickey walked away and back to his dorm leaving Ian standing there bewildered at the response. It was after a shower when Mickey saw the alerts on his phone. 

2 _messages. Mandy’s Boy._

_Mandy’s Boy: The fuck with the Houdini act?_

_Mandy’s Boy: Happy Birthday, asshole. 🖕🖕_

Mickey looked over the texts and smirked a bit to himself. He really needed to update Ian’s contact information in his phone.

He began to respond when another text came through. 

_1 message. Mandy Fuckface._

_Mandy: What the fuck are you telling Ian!??!?!! 🔪_

It was only then that Mickey responded to Ian. 

_Mickey: 🔪_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys really shouldn't use physicality to deal with their disagreements but... it's canon and they're dumb horny kids so -shrug- 
> 
> Next chapter is titled: Joan Summers


	6. Joan Summers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian’s mental block regarding Mickey finally lifts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very very physical, if that's not for you, I'd skip ahead. I would like to apologize here and now for these boys. Sigh. They are just so young, so far away from their normal lives, and Ian… he’s so pretty, and Mickey… well, he can be so clueless. What on earth are we going to do about these two? - Unbeta'd.

Mickey had been being weird all day and it was throwing Ian for a loop considering his dick was in the man’s mouth a mere 12 hours earlier. 

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

Mickey: 🔪

_Ian: 🤷‍♂️_

_Mickey: 🔪🔪🔪_

_Ian: Did you find the hickey?_

_A few minutes later._

_Mickey: 😡🖕🔪_

“Careful with that.” Ian heard, and looking up he saw John walking by and gave him an odd look. “The texting.” Then it dawned on Ian, right, his poor excuse for being all banged up. 

“Oh yeah, right. My walking while texting incident.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, completely safe texting and walking this time.” Well, sort of. The knives were causing him reason for concern. 

* * *

Ian didn’t know what was going on with Mickey and if his texts were playful and flirty or if Ian was about to become a victim of homicide. It really could go either way. Hell, it could have been both. Ian kept trying to text him all day, catch him between classes, but neither were proving fruitful to the angry stabby texts he was getting. Finally, knowing he would get some answers, Ian stood against the dugout fence at their normal 8pm time. It was strange waiting for the guy who not only blew him the night before but was threatening him all day. When he heard heavy boots he looked up to see the angry face of one Mickey Milkovich. The moment Ian saw the look in his eyes he knew he was fucked.

“Ah, shit.” Ian mumbled beneath his breath before taking a step back as the Mickey shaped demon started coming at him. It was then Mickey ran up to Ian and before he could dodge out of his way gave him a hard shove.

“What the fuck, Gallagher!” He yelled before going for him again, this time Ian was ready and landed a punch against Mickey’s face.

“Mickey, the fuck?!” But that didn’t slow him down and instead he went at Ian again, this time colliding with his waist, knocking him to the ground, with the weight of the heavy student on top of him Ian fell, the wind knocked out of him.

What occurred next was one of the most constructive conversations they had ever had during their odd 6 week relationship. However, due to neither of them having the ability to accurately convey their feelings, anyone else with an ounce of emotional maturity would struggle to understand what was occurring.

“Running your mouth to Mandy?” Mickey grabbed Ian by the shoulders pushing him hard into the ground. “Going on about shit?”

_Emotional Translator: I have noticed you’ve been speaking to my sister about our private conversations, can you please confirm what you have and have not told her?_

“Mickey!” Ian brought an elbow up landing it against the boy’s neck, giving him enough leverage to push him off. “The fuck? I haven’t said shit.” Ian was on his feet giving Mickey a kick to the ass.

_Emotional Translator: While yes, I have spoken to her. Things considered personal were not shared._

Mickey was up in a flash, his hands coming up to push Ian’s shoulders in an aggressive fashion. “I can’t…” Push. “This…” he gestured between them. “I need... Without…” He gestured around him.

_Emotional Translator: I cannot handle exploring what’s happening here with myself and between us if I’m afraid people are going to find out._

Ian didn’t hesitate to shove him back, “I fucking know that, Mickey. You think I don’t get it. Big bad fucking Mickey Milkovich on my dick?” Mickey ran his hands over his face before giving Ian another, less-enthused push. He was calming down.

_Emotional Translator: I know the reputation that you have, I know people finding out would turn that upside down._

“Just us, right?” His eyebrow shot up, eyeing an out of breath Ian. “Gotta stop smoking man.” Mickey said bringing a cigarette from his pocket to his lips.

_Emotional Translator: Can you confirm that this is a safe space?_

Ian nodded, “Just us, and fuck you.”

_Emotional Translator: This is a safe space._

Mickey was about to light his cigarette when he remembered something, “Oh yeah,” He landed a quick punch to the side of Ian’s face. “Hickey? The fuck? What are you? 13? Jesus _fucking_ Christ.” Ian groaned, bringing his hand to his throbbing head.

“Hot though, yeah?” Ian asked, goofy smile on his face as his body throbbed. Mickey shrugged. “Gotta stop fucking with my face. I was already asked about the forehead thing.”

Mickey walked over and bringing his hand to Ian’s chin he held it while his eyes scanned the bruise on his forehead, and the new welt against the side of his face. “Yeah, but… you look so good.” Ian rolled his eyes, leave it to Mickey to have a violence kink.

“You’ve got the same ones.”

“And I look good.” Mickey concluded as Ian grabbed the man by the hips and pulled him tight against him, heat from their fight lingering between them, bodies buzzing. Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey briefly on the lips, then the chin, then he dropped his head and kissed his neck. This caused an almost instant groan from Mickey, and Ian’s stomach tightened, he loved that he could coax these noises from him. Mickey ran his hands around Ian’s waist and slid his hands underneath his shirt along his lower back before running his hand to the front of Ian’s jeans to grab his bulge. Ian moaned against Mickey’s neck encouraging him to start unbuttoning and unzipping the redhead’s pants. “Yeah?” Mickey responded hotly to what Ian’s body was telling him. 

Ian at this point still wasn’t sure where Mickey landed on the top/bottom/verse situation and since he had a pretty strong preference himself he was hoping for a particular response from Mickey. He bit at the boy’s neck hard, causing a hiss of pain to come from Mickey. “How?” He asked as his tongue snaked out over his teeth marks. Mickey didn’t answer, instead he pulled away from a disheveled Ian taking a few steps back, but this time Ian took a step to match each one of Mickey’s. The brunet smirked and looked around before spotting the back door to the Phys Ed building. Quickly the two boys were off, Ian used his key card to open up the back door and immediately saw the back room they had been using for their one-on-one sessions.

“Check it.” He instructed to Mickey before running up to the front of the building and into John’s office. He heard Mickey yell out a _Open_ just as he was grabbing lube and a condom from John’s desk drawer and he rushed back. The moment he was close enough Mickey’s hands were grabbing him by the waistband and pulling him into the small storage space shutting the door behind him.

Mickey took to completing the task of getting Ian’s pants undone as Ian ripped open the condom foil. Pushing his pants completely down and freeing his throbbing erection. Ian slid on the condom as Mickey worked on his own pants, his eyes on Ian challengingly. Once they were down Ian turned him around pushing him over and Mickey went with it happily. With no grace or fanfare Ian pushed a lubed finger into Mickey. _Holy shit._ He was tight. _Very_ tight. Ian reconciled that it must have been a while for him. Mickey made small noises as Ian soon worked in another, slowly pushing them in and out. Finally Mickey grumbled out a “Fucking, lets go.”

Ian positioned himself and slowly pushed into Mickey, _fuck fuck fuck_. It wasn’t the easiest task at first and Ian had to assume Mickey hadn’t been having regular sex. He pushed in a bit further, earning a groan from the brunet. Ian worked slowly and once he was fully seated he gripped Mickey’s hips tightly. He slowly began to pump in and out, somewhat difficult at first, once Mickey seemed to relax the easier it became. Soon the two boys were finding their rhythm, Ian’s iron grip on Mickey’s hips was earning him various noises as he worked into him faster. _Unghh_ _. Fuck. Gallagher._ Mickey reached around one hand to grab at Ian’s ass wanting more of him, not that there was anymore to give. 

Ok this was good, actually… this was great. Ian couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be than right here, right now, his dick inside of Mickey Milkovich.

“Jesus Christ.” Mickey groaned out loudly as Ian worked the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Every sound that fell from Mickey’s lips made it harder for Ian to keep from unraveling. Knowing that he was the one in control, that he was causing Mickey’s grunts and groans, was hot as hell. Ian slid his hand up and down the back of Mickey’s shirt, gripping the material as their hips worked together harder and faster. After about a dozen more pumps Ian felt his end coming, his leaned his sweaty head back and grunted appreciatively at how their bodies seemed to work so well together. Finally, he leaned over, resting some of his weight on Mickey as he reached around to stroke the student's hard dick. Ian could smell Mickey’s shampoo and whatever other products he used. He smelled so _good_. Mickey sank into the pleasure Ian was providing him and he pressed his forehead into the door in front of him. Ian knew he was almost there, he felt Mickey pulsating around him, his body stiffening yet buzzing at the same time.

“Ian,” he warned and it was only a few seconds later he felt Mickey coming into his hand, his own intense orgasm following moments after. The two were still for a moment, the waves of their climaxes coursing through them, until finally Ian pulled out of Mickey and disposed of his condom in a nearby trash can. He looked around for some tissues before finding some paper towels, he grabbed a few before handing one to Mickey and then cleaning off himself. It was awkwardly silent in a way they hadn’t experienced before. Mickey pulled up his pants and Ian did as well.

When Mickey opened the door Ian went to grab him, but he pulled away.

“Not this shit again, really?” Ian groaned out as Mickey began down the hall. “Fuck you.” Which only earned him the middle finger from Mickey as he walked out of sight.

* * *

It was Tuesday morning and Mickey was sitting in his English class as the teacher went on and on about Shakespeare. Who cared about Shakespeare when all Mickey could think about was the night before with his stomach in knots?

_Ian. Hands. Grunts. Doors. Pushing. Grabbing. Coming._

It was playing in his head over and over again and Mickey wanted more, needed more of this. He felt good, when was the last time he had felt alive? It all felt so freeing, the idea of having sex with a guy, a guy that he liked, the idea of even creating some sort of ongoing thing felt like a foreign idea. One that hadn’t felt like a possibility before. Though who was he kidding? He thought about the outside world. Nothing aligned with this.

“Action and Inaction.” His teacher spoke as she wrote the words out on the dry erase board. “Hamlet struggles throughout the play with logistical difficulties and moral burdens. William Shakespeare’s unique perspective on action versus inaction becomes clear here. While many scholars believe that inaction is in fact, an actionable choice. Shakespeare suggests that there is no inherent morality in either. Just because you stay on your current trajectory, or if you make a choice to change it, he believed these decisions were free from morality, while most ethics scholars, to this day, do not agree. ” Mickey found this whole Shakespeare class a bit dramatic. Ian would probably like it. 

Across the campus Ian was finishing up with the first class of the day, putting away equipment when he phone buzzed. 

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: Doing this again, or what?_

Ah, the romance. Ian smiled and responded back quickly. 

_Ian: Now?_

_Mickey: Tonight, you fucking idiot._

_Ian: How can I say no to that?_

He had to procure some supplies, as fun as last night was he had raided his bosses desk drawer for condoms. It was in that moment it dawned on Ian. Condoms. He went into his boss’s desk to steal condoms and lube. To fuck Mickey. To fuck a _student_. He fucked a student. _Shit_. As the thought dawned on him he almost dropped the mats in his hand. _Though, did Mickey really count as a student?_ He brain tried to logic himself out of a dilemma. He was Mickey, Mandy’s brother, his teenage and current crush, someone he had a healthy fear of growing up… but in this strange moment of time, he _was_ a student. He was a student at the only place that seemed to really be giving Ian a chance. _Holy shit_. 

Ian tucked his phone into his pocket before dropping the mats and making a bee-line down the Phys Ed hall and towards the back room. What the fuck was wrong with him? He opened the door and immediately looked for any evidence. He was sure only he and Mickey used this room for anything but they had to at least attempt to hide what they were doing. His eyes scanned the various surfaces and nothing was amiss. _The trash._ Looking into the trash can, it was empty with a fresh bag. _Cleaning crew._ He needed to talk to someone because he had just majorly fucked up. 

During his break Ian went to the B Building, one he rarely stepped into, and it didn't take long for him to find the other young redhead. 

“Joan,” He called out and when she saw him she smiled.

“Ian! It’s so good to see you. I almost never see you away from the E Building. What are you up to?” Her smiled wide and friendly. 

“Not too much, but I did have a sort of favor to ask.” he began awkwardly, “When I started you mentioned that you were new too and had struggled a bit.” Joan nodded, “I could really use someone to just talk to. This place is wild. Do you possibly have time to meet for coffee after work or something?”

“I’d love to but I can’t tonight, we go out after work on Tuesdays for Taco Tuesday.” She said smiling, “Which… you should come! You’ve always kind of kept to yourself so we didn’t ask, but please come! It’ll be a lot of fun. We can get to know you a bit.”

“Oh… I don’t really have a car or anything I…”

“I don’t mind giving you a ride, Ian. I’d love to. I don’t live here but from what I’ve heard it’s really difficult living where you work and getting kind of sucked into a bubble. You should really try to get away once in a while. Let’s meet here after work and we’ll clear up that head of yours.” Ian nodded and smiled thankfully. 

“Thanks Joan.”

As Ian walked away he took out his phone to text Mickey. He never had to post-pone one of their evening hang-outs. It made him question if that was even something they should communicate. It wasn’t as if they had ever come to an understanding that this was something they were committed to every night, it just sort of happened, but Ian didn’t want to leave Mickey waiting. 

* * *

Mickey was grabbing a sandwich from the sandwich station when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

_1 message. Not Mandy’s Boy_

_Not Mandy’s: Got invited out to grab food with some staff tonight. Don’t know how long it’ll take._

_Mickey: Not your keeper man._

_Not Mandy’s: So after?_

_Mickey: Not waiting for you._

_Not Mandy’s: Back room again?_

_Mickey: Yeah._

* * *

Ian sat awkwardly in Joan’s car as the friendly redhead drove them only about 15 minutes to the nearest strip mall just into town. 

“I know you said you wanted to talk, did you want to meet up tomorrow during lunch? This place not being ideal for chats.” Joan was very considerate and it was something Ian wasn’t particularly used to. 

“Yeah that would be great, I think just talking to someone else who is new and starting out here would be really helpful.” The two pulled up into a strip mall that had a florist, a pharmacy, a small grocery store, a Mexican restaurant, and stationary boutique. It was so… average compared to the city.

“I’ll meet you inside,” Ian said as they got out of the car, “Need to pick up some things.” he nodded towards the pharmacy before walking down a few stores and slipping in. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, he grabbed a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. Then, to not look like a sex-crazed maniac, he picked up a new toothbrush, some shampoo, deodorant, and a bar of soap. The school had a small store which had these items but they were generic and overpriced. After ringing up he tossed the bag into Joan’s car before going into the restaurant. It did not take long to find the large table of professionals, whooping it up to their order of margaritas. Ian quietly sat down next to Joan and scanned the table. He didn’t know any of these people. 

“Oh! Ian!” Joan said after taking a sip of her drink. “Everyone, this is Ian, he is the new assistant in the Phys Ed department, under John. Ian this is everyone.” She gestured. “Olivia, she is the coordinator for the Underprivileged Youth Program. Johnny, he works in Financial Aid. Cara, she is the Assistant Director of Admissions, Annie here works in the English department, and then Andrew works in I.T.” Everyone smiled to the newcomer. 

“Under John, huh? He’s quite the character.” Olivia commented with a smile. “A good guy, but tightly wound.” Ian nodded but didn’t have the opportunity to say something before a waitress walked over asking if he wanted a drink. He ordered a coke before turning his attention back to the group. 

“Did you hear about the meltdown Shaw had in the computer lab today?” Andrew rolled his eyes, “That kid is going to unleash all hell on this world some day.”

“He’s always been a handful,” Cara commented, “Give him time, he’ll either even out after some… self-exploration, or he’ll become another psychotic CEO.”

Olivia groaned, “That kid harasses my boys. He made Curtis cry at lunch over the fact his mother is in jail. I know in our line of work money speaks louder than anything else but I’ve been building a case on that kid for the past few years. Just waiting to end it all.”

“Your boys…” Annie sighed, “They have a paper due tomorrow and I am terrified.”

“Topic?” Asked Joan. 

“Rites of Passage—”

“Couldn’t have chosen something a bit less triggering for the boys of traumatic backgrounds?” Olivia interjected. 

“I know, I know…” Annie groaned, “But it’s just so hard to evoke any emotion from them, I was hoping it would be a chisel to help dig them out of their shells.”

“John almost lost it over the Milkovich kid, wouldn’t participate or something. I was like ‘John, relax, It’s gym.’ he did not like that.” It was then Olivia turned her attention to Ian. “Oh wait. Aren’t you the one helping with that situation? Working with him one-on-one?” Ian’s stomach churned and he simply nodded. “Thank you for that, I don’t want to see this kid fall through the cracks because of Phys Ed. No offense.”

“None taken. He is certainly… a handful.” A handful of attitude and any other things. A flash of the man groaning the night before flashed into his mind. 

“As long as he’s not the one beating you up, I think we’re all safe.” Olivia teased gesturing to the marks on the boy’s face. 

“Oh! Yeah… texting and walking in a place with a lot of columns and poles is not a smart move.” Ian looked at his phone. 7:15pm. It was then the waitress came over to take the large group’s orders. Ian had to admit that this wasn’t so bad, being around people, outside of the three buildings he had been in the past month. The group chatted on and on about coworkers he didn’t know, students he was only slightly familiar with, and their own personal lives that he wasn’t in the know about. They were about halfway through the meal when his phone buzzed. 8:01pm.

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: 🍆_

His stomach fluttered and he quickly responded. 

_Ian: 🌮_

_Mickey: You’re missing out_

_Ian: Cool your jets_

_Mickey: 👊🍆_

Ian couldn’t help but chuckle, fuck he needed to get back soon. His smile and texting didn’t go by undetected. 

“Now we know why he’s running into so many poles.” Johnny teased. “Got a girl back home?”

“What? Oh. No. I’m… no.” Ian brushed it off quickly. “It’s nothing.” He slid his phone into his pocket. 

“That smile. That blush. Either you’re getting it, or waiting to get it, because I know that look. Go home during winter holiday and _get it_.” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows. Ian had no idea how to address any of this. 

“Leave him alone, he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it”. Olivia interjected. “But I’ll just say one thing, you look good when you’re crushing.” This was so embarrassing. The meal was finally wrapping up and everyone was paying their checks when Ian pulled out his phone. 8:35pm.

_3 messages. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: 🍑_

_Mickey: 🍆_

_Mickey: 💦_

_Ian: You’re fucking killing me._

* * *

After Joan dropped him off Ian made a dash for his room to stash his purchases grabbing the few items he needed before rushing to the back door of the E building. Turning the corner he knew Mickey was there before he saw him and sure enough two hands grabbed his jacket pushing him up against the building. Their lips were together instantly, a fury of impatience and insistence, and Ian grabbed his key card before swiping it at the door. The two made their way inside quickly to the back room and when Ian tried the door - it was locked. 

“Fuck.” he muttered breathlessly, Mickey already working on getting Ian’s pants off. “Wait.” He muttered and Mickey shook his head. 

“Waited enough.” 

“Wait, wait…” Ian pulled back before rushing down the hall to John’s office, the door was closed, something he had never seen before. Then when he tried the door, it too was locked. _Fuck_. 

“Let’s get it going, Gallagher.” He heard Mickey call out. Ian ran back towards their locked back room door and he shook his head before kissing Mickey again, deep but quick. 

“Doors locked, no keys.” Ian dropped his head down, his tongue running over Mickey’s neck as his hands grabbed his hips moving him away from the door and towards a darkened hallway dead end. Mickey didn’t care, who the fuck cared at this point? Once Ian had Mickey cornered his hands began to push the man’s pants down before turning him around roughly, Mickey immediately brought his hands up to the wall as if instinct. In about 30 seconds Ian had his pants down, condom on, and was fully lubed up. If security came, security came. He began to push into Mickey, he wasn’t nearly as tight as he was the night before, making this part much easier and enjoyable for everyone. Mickey groaned as Ian worked into him, a few pumps of his hips before they were comfortable. 

“Jesus Christ, Mickey.” Ian started, his hands gripping the man’s waist tightly as they began to move, long slow strokes at first but, as they moved, became more used to each other and their movements, the more the pleasure built the faster, harder, and rougher they became. They knew doing this down the hallway of a building anyone with a keycard could walk into was stupid. However, the choices they would continue to make would only become riskier. Mickey began to stroke himself, the double stimulation meaning he was close to his crescendo. Ian leaned over, bringing one hand to the wall in front of Mickey, with the other still firmly on the man’s hip. He thrust his hips harder, his release close. “Fuck.” He grumbled out, dropping his head to the back of Mickey’s neck, his mouth tasting the skin there, smelling him. It wasn’t much longer, Mickey began to unravel, his body jerking and weakening, pulsating around Ian. He took that as a sign to let himself go and after a few more thrusts the two men came, Ian relaxing against Mickey’s back for a moment before standing up and pulling back. He removed his condom before tossing it in a nearby trash can as Mickey stood, wiped his hand awkwardly against his boxers before pulling his pants up. Ian was quick this time, cornering the man and before he had a chance to make a dash for it Ian leaned down and kissed him, this time slowly and deeply. This took Mickey by surprise, but he quickly gave in, kissing Ian back. No words exchanged, the two made their way back to appropriate buildings where showers were much needed. 

_1 message. Micky Milkovich._

_Mickey: My hips are bruised up from last night. Asshole._

* * *

The next day Ian sat at one of the outdoor tables by the cafeteria, coffee and sandwich in front of him. It was only a few minutes before Joan walked up all smiles, with a little lunchbox in hand. She sat down and popped open her lunch revealing what looked to be leftover Indian takeout. 

“Thanks for spending lunch together.” Ian said happily, it was weird feeling like he maybe could have a friend here. 

“Oh yeah, of course. Did you have fun last night? The crew loved getting to know you a bit, we all kind of noticed that you don’t really socialize much.”

“I’m just…”

“Distracted?” Joan nodded.

“Huh?”

“You’re always working so hard, and it’s really impressive. Don’t forget to enjoy yourself once in a while.” Joan advised as she began to eat. “So tell me, what did you need to get off your chest?”

Ian took a sip from his coffee and shrugged, “On my first day you mentioned that you had made a huge mistake during the summer. Can I ask what happened? I’m just feeling like…” _like fucking a student is a bad move, please reassure me with something you’ve done that is somehow worse._ “… like I’m not going to do well here.”

“Oh gosh… well. You remember Olivia? She usually works to get everything set up for the Underprivileged Youth Program. Due to a family emergency she had to take about a two weeks off during the summer to tend to those matters. The higher ups assured her that they could take care of getting everything set up with I.T. and all that jazz. However, they did not. I was new and didn’t know better so when they asked me to give the instructions to I.T. I misunderstood and gave them they wrong instructions.” She shrugged a bit. “So I’m sure you’ve heard of the program. We take 5 students, but we accept applications up to a certain date. So parents, schools, social workers, community leaders have a month to send in all these applications. Then the students who are deemed more _likely to benefit_ are chosen. Thus our 5.”

Ian nodded, “I mean that seems simple enough, what happened?”

“Well, due to almost no one knowing what they were doing, it was set up so only the first 5 applications were accepted and then the portal would shut down. Because Olivia was away, it wasn’t caught quick enough. Should I.T. have questioned it? Sure. Should people with no clue what they were doing be giving instructions? Probably not. At this point though, it’s blown over. Everyone kind of messed up, you know? But we’re all here, we have our class for the year, so it’s all OK. The biggest fear was that one of the first 5 would be unfit, either with the staff or other students, but so far that doesn’t seem to be too much of an issue. That I’m aware of anyways.”

“Wow…” So Mickey got in by a fluke. “It’s really seemed to work itself out.”

“Luckily.” Joan agreed. “But can I be honest with you? Not to sound too woo-woo or anything, but I do believe things are generally meant to work out when one has the highest-good intention in mind. I mean, sure, was it a mistake? Yes. But it wasn’t on purpose, not done to screw the academy. It brought us these boys who are doing a great job, whose lives will be changed by this, whether it was a mistake or not. Sometimes mistakes are just the universe’s way of putting us where we need to be. Fate and all that.” Something about Joan’s words sat well with Ian. Maybe she was right. 

“You’re really smart, do you know that?” Ian asked, his charming smile in full-force. 

“That’s what my mother has told me my whole life.” Joan teased as she ate. “I like this, we should do it often. I enjoy my job but everyone’s a bit stuffy. I’d rather sit with you and talk about life, mistakes, and the universe.”

* * *

That night Ian found Mickey at the dugout smoking, pretending for an entire 10 minutes that they were just going to chit chat, smoke, talk about school. However, all pretense was gone the moment they locked eyes. This time they promised each other they’d be quiet as their pants came down and Mickey gripped the chain-link fence. The nerves of being out in the open forced a quick experience and they finished with each other’s names falling from their lips in hushed tones. 

* * *

_1 message. Not Mandy’s Boy._

_Not Mandy’s: 🔥_

* * *

"Don’t fucking push me, Gallagher.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ian grumbled as he pulled down Mickey’s pants, the brunet bracing himself against the bathroom door. 

“Whose here? No one. Stop telling me to shut up and get on me already.” It was Thursday night the moment they realized they had access to the gym bathrooms, and after their back room had been locked, it was an easy, semi-private space to get it on. They had tried the locker rooms but they always seemed to be locked. It was a strange turn in their relationship, a limbo of once chatty friends, to now non-chatty fuck buddies. Though obviously this was much preferred, Ian was hoping they could get past the awkward first few fucks and get to a point where Mickey could relax. 

* * *

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: 🥖_

_Ian: Sick of rushing this shit each night._

A few minutes passed. 

_Mickey: We’ll figure it out._

* * *

Mickey sat in his ridiculous life skills class, his mind on the fact that he had gym next. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Ian every single day since they arrived at this god forsaken school, and they had fucked pretty much each night this week, but he was starting to itch for more. A rushed screw had it’s highlights, sure, and he’d take it happily if that was the only option, but he was getting antsy. When Phys Ed finally came Mickey walked into the building to see Ian down the hall unlocking the door to the back room. He began to head down when John walked out of his office. 

“Milkovich.” He gave him a nod, but then his eyes looked the boy up and down. “Been texting?” He asked sarcastically referring to the fading bruises on his face, and the side of his neck from when Ian had elbowed him.

“What?” He asked confused as John walked into the gym. “Your boss is weird, man.” he finally said to Ian as they two met halfway down the hallway. Ian’s eyes scanned around a bit before looking to Mickey, with a cocky look. The two walked back down the hall and into the back room. Mickey went to close the door and Ian shook his head.

“Gotta keep it open.”

“Bullshit.”

“I mean it, it’s suspicious if the door’s closed.” Ian said as he changed the weight on the leg-press machine.

“So we’re just working out then?”

“Yep.”

Mickey grumbled before sitting down at the machine. “Fucking bullshit.”

Ian shrugged before walking behind him and bringing his hands to Mickey’s shoulders rubbing them firmly. Leaning down he gently bit Mickey’s neck. “I’ll make it up to you.” Mickey’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. 

“No. No. You’re not going to get me going and then not do anything about it.” Mickey said brushing away the redhead. 

Ian laughed, “What if I offer incentive.” As if well-trained puppies, their eyes flickered to the doorway. “If you get through this session and do the workout planned. With no bitching or complaining. We’ll sneak in later and I’ll blow you.”

Mickey thought about it for a moment. Was this really worth no complaining at all? He was pretty sure he could get Ian to blow him with or without this, so he wasn’t sold. Ian noticing Mickey actually thinking it over rolled his eyes, “Really?”

Mickey agreed and knowing he was going to regret it. It wasn’t worth not bitching about working out. He fucking hated working out and complaining was a nice release. However, he did it - along with Ian’s constant inappropriate touching and hushed words. True to his promise, that night the two boys made their way back into the Phys Ed building, the door to their back room was predictably locked, so heading back to their darkened corner Ian dropped to his knees freeing Mickey from his pants. Ian took him into his mouth expertly, Mickey pressing his head against the wall behind him. 

“Fuck.” He groaned as Ian slid his tongue over the tip, and while one hand remained on the base of Mickey’s cock the other rested on his hip holding him in place. Ian worked his tongue and lips against Mickey as his hand continue the slow pumping. Mickey’s breathing became heavier and shallow, and he slid his fingers through Ian’s hair lightly. Encouraged, Ian removed his hand and took Mickey in fully, relaxing his throat muscles as to not choke. Ian knew he was good at this, very good at this. Once upon a time he had been paid for it. If he needed any proof the sounds from Mickey were just confirming what he knew to be true. Micky began to tug at Ian’s hair, a quick warning, “Ian.” he breathed, his head falling forward, “I’m…” Ian reached his hands around grabbing Mickey’s ass. That was all it took to do Mickey in, and after a few jerks and shudders he came. 

* * *

2 _messages. Not Mandy’s Boy._

_Not Mandy’s: 🍆 💦_

_Not Mandy’s: Come watch wrestling practice tomorrow._

_Mickey: To see that kid try to shove his dick in your mouth? No thanks._

_Not Mandy’s: That doesn’t turn you on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had to think about if Mickey would be proficient with emojis. Then I figured, for someone who hated sharing how he felt so much, I could see him using emojis to say what he doesn't want to say. If I ever write a follow up to this I promise to get these kids some therapy, but for now they are just little chaotic monsters. - Next Chapter: Lip Gallagher


	7. Lip Gallagher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mardi Gras! You can thank this entire story on the fact New Orleanians had a sad Mardi Gras season and I had to put that energy somewhere. Please remember that fanfiction should not be used to demonstrate safe sex amongst real people. These are 2 kids with warped ideas of freedom, who are horny, and falling in love. Please do not follow their example. But also… I’d like to think that if you are mature enough to watch Shameless you understand all of this. - Unbeta'd.

It was Saturday morning and Ian was up early grabbing coffee from the cafeteria. He sat out on one of the benches and watched as the sun made its way over the horizon. Ian actually really enjoyed the campus when it wasn’t crowded with bodies. It was peaceful, quiet, and serene. Taking his phone from his pocket he sent a text to Mickey.

_Ian: Hey, you up?_

_Mickey: No._

_Ian: Come outside._

_Mickey: Why?_

_Ian: Because it’s a nice morning. I’ll buy you breakfast._

_Mickey: The food’s free you dipshit._

_Ian: 😑_

5 minutes later.

_Mickey: I’m coming._

Ian abandoned his coffee when he saw Mickey walking out of his dorm building, his hair a mess, wearing his sweats and an old t-shirt. Mickey’s eyes scanned the courtyard before spotting Ian, cocking an eyebrow he rounded the building. Ian was quickly behind him and once they were safe in the shadow of the big brick building Mickey leaned against it.

“Tell me why I’m outside at this ungodly fucking hour.” But Ian didn’t say anything, instead he kissed the sleepy brunet softly pressing his body against his. Once their lips broke Ian dropped his head and kissed Mickey’s neck before pushing the material of his shirt off his shoulders to run his tongue over one of the fading bite marks that marred his skin. “Ok, so you dragged my ass out of bed to play sneak and kiss? Really hoping for some weed or something.” He tried to sound annoyed but his hands running down Ian’s sides were giving him away. “You’re gonna get me hard, Gallagher. Stop.” Ian grumbled but knew he was right and pulled back a bit.

“Hungry?” Ian asked as he pulled back smiling, eyebrow arching.

“Fucking guess so, come on.” The two boys went to the cafeteria and Ian took the opportunity to introduce Mickey to items that were there besides sandwiches and by 7:30am they were sitting together in the fresh morning air drinking coffee and eating food. It was quiet and calm and maybe Mickey sort of saw the appeal. Figuring no one would be up for a while, and the staff was mostly away on the weekends Mickey saw no harm in openly smoking. Taking his pack from his pocket he fished out a cigarette before lighting it up.

“Got an extra?” Ian asked reaching his hand out expectantly before Mickey shook his head.

“You gotta quit, man.” He said before taking a long drag. “You get winded quick.” He exhaled a stream of smoke. “If you’re gonna do this whole sports career thing, you should stop.” Ian scrunched up his face. Mickey had clearly been thinking about this. Ian reached over and plucked the cigarette from Mickey’s mouth before taking a drag and handing it back.

“I don’t get winded.”

“You’re always winded, especially after I kick your ass.”

“Yeah… because you’re kicking my ass. For someone who doesn’t work out you sure as hell are muscularly dense. Stop trying to beat the shit out of me and I won’t get winded.” Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Or I can continue to beat the shit out of you and you stop smoking.”

Ian chuckled, “Can’t fuck with my face anymore, ok? I’ve gotten multiple comments. No where visible. Bites, marks, scratches… none of it.”

“Says the guy who leaves me looking like a leopard. I only have access to your face and your dick. Let me know which one you prefer.” Ian shook his head before casually bringing his hand up to stroke the back of Mickey’s neck. “So damn physical, Gallagher. We’re out in the open.”

“No one’s here.” It made Mickey nervous, the idea someone could see, that someone could know, and then this bubble they were living in would pop.

“Don’t know that.” He said pulling away from Ian a bit and then taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes landed on the redhead and seeing the look of disappointment on his face he handed Ian back his cigarette, a peace offering. Ian was honestly surprised at how much Mickey let him get away with, knowing his family. He knew if they were in the Southside these touches, no matter how small wouldn’t be tolerated, Ian suspected the safety net of being hours away from anyone they knew was really freeing for the closeted man. 

“Yo, can you help me tonight with some fucking algebra?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah.” Ian agreed.

* * *

Saturday afternoon came and Mickey found himself where he was a week ago; new worksheets, biology book open, sitting on the bleachers of the gym, while these rich kids pinned each other down to the mats. It was massively uninteresting for Mickey, his eyes only keeping locked on Ian most of the time. The game he had created last week where he allowed himself staring privileges for answering questions was working it’s magic again and he was moving through is homework easily. During the 5 minute water break Ian sat next to Mickey, the two silent, Mickey handing Ian his water, and soon practice was starting again.

While he was good at tuning out the general goings on of the practice his ears did perk up when he heard the coach say, “Ian please demonstrate with Pierce.” Mickey’s eyes went to the mats to see the Italian God from last week kneel down on the mat before moving to all fours. Ian kneeled behind him, wrapping one arm around his torso and one hand on the mat. _The fuck?_ Mickey watched, his face becoming more telling the more he was hating what was occurring. When the coach blew the whistle Pierce was supposed to stand and twist removing himself from Ian’s grasp, but instead the man struggled letting Ian pin him down to the mat. “Let’s try it again.” John called out, and the pair repeated this move, again Pierce letting himself be pinned beneath Ian. Mickey rolled his eyes, fuming silently from his spot in the bleachers. After a third time with no success John suggested that Pierce work throughout the week on the move and then they moved on. Mickey’s eyes were on Ian, and he saw the redhead look up to him briefly before continuing on. 

Once practice was over Ian stayed in the gym to start clearing equipment while the students gathered their things, spoke to the coach, and left the building. Mickey stayed in his position on the bleachers while Ian cleaned up. He was almost finished when Peirce walked in, eyes on Ian as he approached him. Mickey couldn’t hear what was happening, but the tall model of a man was speaking to Ian intently, and Mickey could see Ian taking in the information before frowning a bit. His eyes flickered over to Mickey. His face flashed confusion, then hesitation, and then finally a kind smile. Pierce nodded, gave Ian a pat on the shoulder, before heading out. 

Grabbing his phone Mickey sent Ian a text. 

_Mickey: The fuck was that?_

Ian was carrying the last mat out as he grabbed his phone, looked at Mickey and quickly replied. 

_Ian: Nothing. Don’t worry about it._

When he was finished putting things away he popped into John’s office, closed the door, and then a few minutes later came out. Mickey was gathering his things when he saw Ian slip out of his boss’s office and over to Mickey as he prepared to leave. 

“Good show?” He asked, fully aware his boss was in earshot. 

“Yeah, guess so. Kind of interesting.”

“Cool, I’m glad.” Now they were having performative conversations? Mickey rolled his eyes before heading back to his dorm, why did he agree to come to these fucking things?

That night Mickey was laying back on the bench of the dugout cigarette hanging out of his mouth when Ian walked up. The redhead plucked it out from between his lips and leaned down kissing Mickey deeply, his free hand sliding slowly down his chest and over his pants squeezing Mickey’s cock. The jolt of want was electric. Mickey’s hand came up to the back of Ian’s neck and he kept him close as their tongues worked together. 

“Hmmm…” Mickey groaned as the kiss broke. “Shit man, what I do to deserve that?”

“Practice was rough.” Ian then put Mickey’s cigarette back between his lips. Mickey agreed but he wouldn’t say it. Neither would, because what could they say? If Ian apologized to Mickey for the Peirce bodywork they’d have to talk about fucking other people and neither were at the place to talk about that in a helpful way. They weren’t ready for that, they both knew it. One didn’t share. One didn’t ask. So instead they did the most mature thing they could do. Avoid the topic. “Did you bring your algebra homework?” Mickey nodded towards a book on the ground. “Let’s get on it then.”

* * *

_3:15 am_

_1 message. Firecrotch._

_Firecrotch_ _: I need you._

5 minutes later

_Mickey: Where?_

_Firecrotch_ _: Anywhere we don’t have to rush._

_Mickey: Let me know when you find it._

* * *

The rest of the week went by pretty quickly as the boys had fallen into a routine. Mickey continued his job for his dad and worked on school work, while Ian continued helping John with classes, working out with other assistants, and even fell into a daily lunch routine with Joan. Then at night the boys would find a darkened area to fuck before smoking and working on Mickey’s homework. Ian considered it a win that Mickey’s silent-walkaway behavior had faded away quickly. The only thing that deviated from the routine was the new Taco Tuesday he was involved in. 

“All I’m saying is, if the paperwork was handled earlier, we wouldn’t be rushing.” Cara shrugged. More stuff Ian didn’t understand but he was enjoying talking to people other than John and Mickey. 

“No one can argue with that.” Joan agreed as she sipped her margarita. 

“Olivia, your _boys_ were in the computer lab today…” Andrew began and Olivia cocked an eyebrow, “2 of them act like they’ve never seen a computer in their lives.” Ian looked away from news Joan was showing him on her phone to listen in to the conversation. “Kamal and uh… the kid with the weird name.”

“Mikhailo. You have to be patient with them, Andrew.” With that Andrew rolled his eyes at Olivia.

“Bullshit.”

“Not everyone has had the same opportunities.” Olivia argued. 

“I’m sick of hearing about opportunities. Maybe they’re just not very bright.”

A flash of anger pulsed through Ian, feeling defensive. For the first time in the evening Ian spoke up to the group. 

“By the time Mickey was 15 he knew how to assemble a Glock 17,” Every head turned to look at him, “and within 2 months he was putting together his own versions. Sold them too, and made a decent enough profit to buy his sister a PlayStation for her birthday.” Ian continued. “At 16 he knew how to manage and run men twice his age and controlled an entire coke ring at the high school. Only one of those got him into juvie, his brother got busted for the other.” You could hear a pin drop at the table, all eyes focused on Ian. There was more but he knew those two things were on his records and accessible to anyone. “Olivia’s right. It’s about opportunity. Mickey’s a lot of things, but he’s not stupid.”

It was silent for a moment, but Olivia was the first to speak. 

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a man.” She raised her drink to Ian and soon the others joined. 

* * *

It was Friday afternoon when Ian and Joan found themselves in a bit of a hushed conversation. Ian was smirking down at his phone and Joan had to say something. 

“Can you tell me about him?” This shook Ian out of his daze. 

“Him?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

“No, but…” he eyed her. 

“Member of the alphabet mafia too. I know gaydar is supposed to be a stereotype but…” Joan shrugged, “I’ve always had a knack.”

“Oh well… he’s an idiot, obviously. Aggressive but… sensitive if that’s possible. Frustratingly stubborn, oddly intimate.” Ian’s heart began to beat a bit faster, “Just…” he sighed and Joan smiled. 

“Oh the fluttering of love, nothing like it, no drug can replicate it.” She teased. 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Joan nodded and smiled, “Yes but we’re keeping it quiet. She’s also stubborn and aggressive, takes no shit from anyone. Also soft and kind.”

“I think we’re both doomed, Summers.”

“We are fools, aren’t we?” The two redheads sat smiling enjoying the thoughts of the people they were falling for. 

* * *

Ian bit his bottom lip hard to suppress a moan as his hands rested on Mickey’s shoulders. This was a mistake, a big mistake, the dumbest thing they had ever done. It started with their Friday workout session, Mickey huffed and puffed about the open door, and Ian couldn’t tell who started grabbing first. All Ian knew was that now he was behind the open door with Mickey down on his knees, his cock in his mouth. Ian’s hands were bunched up in the man’s shirt doing all he could to remain quiet. When a whine slipped out he felt a pinch on his ass cheek and he smirked. It didn’t take long for him to finish, the risk of the situation moving things along. Mickey didn’t come up right away, instead he brought his mouth to Ian’s hipbone and kissed and sucked on the skin there until a red mark was left. Ian pulled him up, his lips on his instantly. 

Later that night they were having a smoke, backs against the dugout fence when Mickey’s phone went off. 

_1 message. Mandy Fuckface._

_Mandy: Coming to see you tomorrow, hide your porn!_

“The fuck?” 

Before Ian could ask what was up his phone went off. 

_1 message. Lip_

_Lip: Got a car, talked to Mandy, coming tomorrow._

“Did you just get a text from Mandy?” Ian asked Mickey.

“Yeah… you?”

“I guess she and Lip are coming up.”

“Mhmm.” Mickey didn’t say anything else.

The two sat quietly as they smoked, the idea of seeing their siblings sat oddly in their stomachs. That night when they parted to return to their respective rooms they kissed, they kissed deeply and slowly, an unspoken desperation settling between them. _Don’t fuck this up._

* * *

The next morning Lip texted Ian that he and Mandy were only a few minutes away and soon he and Mickey were standing awkwardly at the front of the school waiting for the pair. Ian grumbled impatiently and in an attempt to get out some of his fidgety energy went to grab at Mickey and the boy pulled away quickly. 

“Don’t stand so close.” he instructed shaking his head.

Ian scanned the parking lot in front of the school, not a single moving car or person walking. 

“ _Quick_?” He was pushing it, he was fully aware that he deserved an ass-kicking for asking. 

“No, man. No _quick_ nothing.” After about thirty seconds Mickey relented and grabbed Ian by the shirt and gave him a very quick kiss, causing Ian to smile cockily. 

“Dumb fucking smile.” Ian couldn’t help but smile wider. 

About a minute later they watched as a car pulled into the school parking lot and before it even came to a full stop Mandy was out, all smiles, as she ran towards Ian jumping into his arms. Ian spun the female Milkovich around as she laughed. 

“So I’m just trash then?” Mickey asked looking at her sister bewildered. 

“100% trash.” She said before wrapping her arms around her brother, “Hey, ass-wipe.” Lip wasn’t far behind her and he smiled giving his brother a hug. 

“Fuck man, we’ve missed you.” He then looked over at Mickey. 

“And how they let you in… I will never know.”

“Join the club.” Lip gave Mickey a friendly shoulder push, his eyes noticing for a moment a fresh red mark on the man’s collar bone as his shirt shifted. _The fuck was Mickey getting up to in this place?_

The foursome walked as Ian gave an impromptu tour, pointing out each building. Lip listened, Mickey was busy trying to injure his sister in a string of titty-twisters and shoves. Finally after pointing out each building the group grabbed some food and sat at one of the courtyard tables. 

“Fancy fucking place.” Mandy said shoving a scoop of ice cream into her mouth. “We gotta get you out of here and back home.” She said towards Mickey. “Dad isn’t doing shit, I think he forgot you’re even here. Once he needs you to push some shit you’ll be out of here.”

“Or… and hear me out,” Ian started, “he could actually get a diploma.”

Mandy scoffed, “ _Milkovich_ and _diploma_ aren’t two words used in the same sentence, Ian.”

“I have to get to wrestling practice in about 30 minutes, meet you two there?” Ian asked looking at the brother-sister pair. 

“Yeah, why not? Watch some boys get all sweaty. I’m in.” Mandy smiled brightly.

* * *

Back in Ian’s room Lip sat on his brother’s bed looking around at the accommodations. It looked a lot like his college dorm except Ian had a small bathroom attached.

“How’s the roommate?” He asked as he started touching random things around the room.

“Wouldn’t know, haven’t met him.” Ian said with a shrug as he began to undress to change into his gym gear for wrestling practice.

“How’s that possible?” Lip asked before looking over at Ian and noticing a trail of fading nail marks along his lower back. His brother was definitely fucking someone. He then couldn’t help but notice a fresh red mark on his hipbone along with multiple marks up his torso that looks oddly familiar. Lip chuckled, a thought dawning on him.

“Dude, you fucking Mickey?”

Ian’s wide eyes were plenty of confirmation. “Shut the fuck up, why would you say that?” Lip just laughed running his hands over his face in disbelief.

“Holy shit, you’re fucking Mickey Milkovich? Wow… have to say, did not see that one coming.” Images began running through Lip’s mind. “I have so many questions.”

“None that I’m answering.” Ian didn’t know what to do or say, should he deny it? If he knew anything about the Southside and the prisoner’s dilemma, he knew denying was the only true form of protection, but Lip seemed already convinced.

“Bullshit, looking at that guy you’d assume he’s lousy in bed, so angry and all, figured he was compensating for a small dick. Guess, I never considered he’s just gay.” Lip was reworking his memories of Mickey around this new information. “He good?”

Ian couldn’t believe all the words coming from Lip’s mouth, _fuck_. “He’s… yeah. I mean quick hurried fucks in darkened corners but…” he nodded his head, a smile forming on his lips, “…he’s intense.”

“Good intense or psychotic intense?”

“Both.”

“Be careful with that, man. Remember when Mandy and I dated? That psycho-intense doesn’t translate well to the real world.” Lip shook his head, “Fucking Mickey _kicked my ass several times_ Milkovich. Hope you’re getting tested, he was always so filthy. Pretty sure he didn’t start bathing until last year. You doin’ it a lot?”

“Nightly, minimum.”

“Shit. It getting serious?” Ian’s heart jumped into his throat as he finished getting dressed.

“I… he… it’s intense but delicate. We’re all over each other, all the time, and these rushed fucks are getting to my head. I want to switch it up, and spend more time, do it right, you know? He does too… I think. We just have no options and the more I think about it the more I’m fucking aching for it, you know? At the same time I’m worried that he’s going to get scared off, run back to the Southside, and that’ll be it.” Lip listened, a little surprised.

“You got it bad man. You got it bad for gutter rat Mickey Milkovich. Who the fuck saw this coming?”

“Can’t say anything. Not Fi, not Mandy, no one.” Ian knew he didn’t have to say that, he and Lip knew when to keep shit quiet and had on multiple occasions.

“Nah man, your shits always safe with me. Besides, don’t really want Mickey’s blood on my hands, you know?”

Ian gave him a disapproving look, “Don’t say shit like that.” Ian knew he was right but didn’t want to think about that type of thing. Lip eyed his brother for a moment. 

“He wouldn’t survive a week back home if his fucking family caught wind of this.”

“Shut the fuck up, thank you.”

Lip took on a bit more of a serious tone. “You’re doing well here, don’t let a Milkovich fuck this shit up.”

* * *

Mickey and Mandy walked around the campus as he told her about some of the kids, their attitudes, and which ones needed a good ass kicking when they ran into Olivia Shea. “Oh hello, Mr. Milkovich, who is this?” She asked referring to Mandy. 

“This is my sister, Mandy.” Olivia reached her hand out to shake Mandy’s hand but the Milkovich girl just looked at it. 

“Uh hi.” 

Olivia pulled her hand back. “Your brother’s doing very well here.” Mandy scrunched up her brows, “he’s been working hard.” Mandy looked at her brother before smiling and shaking her head.

“Think you got the wrong kid, but uh, yeah it was nice to meet you.” The two walked away and Mandy looked at Mickey oddly, “That was weird.” The two walked up to the gym to see Ian and Lip and Mandy smiled before hip bumping her best friend. Mickey couldn’t help to be a bit resentful at how physical they were so openly. As if on cue they heard Channing Shaw’s voice from across the quad. 

“Hey baby, you want to to fuck?” Mandy blanched and Lip was already one step towards the boy when Mandy stopped him and yelled back, “You wouldn’t know what to do with a dick if you had one.” She then waved cheerily before giving him the finger. 

“Can my sister take care of herself or what?” Mickey asked throwing an arm around Mandy but lowering his voice, “but say the word and I cut his dick off and mail it to you. Nice souvenir, huh?” Both Ian and Lip groaned a bit at his words. Lip was just going to rough the kid up, but leave it to Mickey and his comfort with dismemberment.

“Mickey…” Ian groaned at the mental picture. 

“You forget, fuck head. That's how we met.” He teased hitting the guy in the chest.

The foursome walked into the gym and when Ian spotted John he waved him over as Mickey and Mandy headed towards the bleachers. 

“John, this is my brother Lip, he came for the day to check this place out.” Lip shook John’s hand.

“Your brother is a very hard worker.”

“Always has been. Puts the rest of the family to shame.”

“I don’t doubt that.” John smiled at the two boys before looking over to see Mickey in the headlock of a very angry looking young woman. He looked at Ian questionably. 

“His sister.”

“Oh… the one you were dating, right?”

“Actually we both did.” Lip said proudly, getting a thrill out of the uncomfortable silence that followed. “Gotta keep it in the family, am I right?” He said punching Ian’s shoulder before walking away and joining the Milkovichs. 

Ian gave John a look that read _family is so embarrassing._

“Ian, let me know your thoughts on something, the Wednesday evening class, a lot of them happen to be signed up for wrestling. I don’t think it would hurt to focus that class on classic wrestling moves. It fulfills their credentials needed for the gym credit and for these boys it’ll give them extra practice. Would you be willing to help me work on a lesson plan? I only ask because the closer Melanie gets to get due date the more time I’m having to go to appointments, and you’ve been my right-hand with this new program.”

Ian nodded happily. “I’d love to help with that.”

As practice commenced Mickey and Mandy sat together in the bleachers with Lip sitting one step up, it was far from the most interesting sport in the world but the three watched with Mandy drooling over each and every boy. Lip was eyeing the marks that started at the back of Mickey’s neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. Then the water break came and Ian went to the bleachers, Mickey handed him a water before the redhead looked to Lip and Mandy. 

“Not too boring?” Mandy grasped his arm tightly looking at Pierce Cooke.

“Please tell me you’re fucking that statue of a man.” She said desperately, her eyes following him as he went for water. Mickey’s eyes shot to Mandy, _the fuck did she just say?_

“No, Mandy.” Ian said before taking a drink. 

“Could you? Please. Fuck that guy and then call me giving me every luxurious, pornographic detail.” Mickey’s face turned to disgust and he pushed his sister. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” He grumbled, getting more and more frustrated at this sudden turn in conversation.

“I don’t care, I know a good thing when I see it.” It was then that Pierce looked up at the group and gave them a wink that was worthy of a slow-motion romantic comedy. 

“Holy shit. If you don’t do it, I will. Hell, I’ll be down to have a threesome if you are.” Mandy’s jaw was dropped at the teenage boy who now would be the star of all her fantasies. Lip looked at Mickey, the kid was seething. Ian looked over to Mickey and he swore he could see the blood boiling beneath his skin. It made his heart race and with a small smile his eyes darkened, Mickey’s blue ones now on him. Their eyes locked and Ian raised his brows quickly. A jolt of desire running through both boys simultaneously. Their bodies reacted the only way young lovers would, quick and intensely. It was as if they could read each other’s minds _I’m going to fuck you so hard_. 

Lip looked between the two feeling helpless at whatever it was that was happening. Now was not the time for this, he brought his hands to Mandy’s shoulders trying to prevent her from furthering what she started. 

“Mandy, let it go. No one’s fucking the underaged rich teen model.”

It was then John’s whistle blew and Ian, now uncomfortably hot and bothered, slowly made his way back to the gym floor, his eyes on Mickey every single chance he got. Mickey was staring back at him just as intensely, he needed to fuck him _now_. It was the longest hour of Lip’s life, watching his brother eye-fuck Mandy’s brother in front of the entire gym, so when it was over he let out a long-held breath of air. However, his nerves spiked again when Mickey excused himself disappearing out the gym doors and Ian was quickly behind him. Mandy was too busy undressing Pierce Cooke with her eyes to notice. 

* * *

_Be open. Be open. Be open._ Ian begged making a brief assumption about where Mickey had gone to and sure enough the back room door was unlocked and the moment he stepped in hands were on him. Door closed and locked the two didn’t waste time with words. Mickey’s pants were down and he turned himself around as Ian quickly undid himself and it was at that point he realized they had nothing. No condoms, no lube. As if reading his mind Mickey shook his head, “Just do it, man. Let’s fucking go.”

They hadn’t had this conversation, they hadn’t talked about previous partners and sexual safety and yet their blood was pumping and they were desperate. Going against everything he knew about safe sex Ian went for it. The anger, the jealousy, and the heat was too intoxicating. He reached around shoving his hand into Mickey’s boxers, stroking him a few times until he felt wetness from the tip of his dick and bringing his hand back around he used the pre-come along with his own to add some lubrication, not ideal. Then as a final Hail Mary he hawked and spit into his hand before applying it and then he slowly pushed into Mickey.

Ok, so it wasn’t perfect, but Mickey wasn’t saying anything either way and it was getting the job done well enough. Finally he was in far enough to start moving, grasping Mickey’s waist he started maneuvering his hips. They had to be quick so Mickey stroked his own cock as Ian moved hard and with intent, Mickey biting his lip to keep from grunting with each thrust of the redhead’s hips. It only took a couple of minutes before the two came hard and quietly, nothing but heavy breaths and simmering emotion between them. It had felt great; raw and passionate but Ian hadn’t done that since he was manic and the reminder of that behavior was hitting him like a ton of bricks. Ian pulled out, pulled his pants up and slipped quickly out of the room. Mickey waited about 30 seconds to do the same before dipping into the bathroom to clean himself up. 

Lip and Mandy stood outside the gym as Ian came out, smile on his face, Lip glaring at him. A few minutes later Mickey joined looking bored. “Where the fuck did you two go?” He asked acting as if Lip and Mandy had been the abandoners. Finally Ian and Mickey walked their siblings to the front of the school, Mandy gave Ian and her brother a hug, before Lip pulled Ian aside for a hug. As he pulled back he looked his brother in the eye and said, “You are as subtle as a hammer to the face. Tighten that shit up, man.”

The two siblings left leaving Mickey and Ian standing there in the awkwardness of what the day had been. 

“So we uh…” Ian began awkwardly and more fidgety than he was that morning, he felt guilty. 

“Yep.” Mickey had never done that before. 

There was a beat and Ian’s stomach twisted. “You clean?”

“Yep.” Mickey nodded staring off at where the car has driven off. “You?”

“Miraculously… yeah.”

“Cool.” Mickey brought a hand up running it over his stressed face. “We’re fucking this up, aren’t we?”

Ian sighed, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to google wrestling for this. P.S. Mandy does not mean to be an asshole, the idea of praise and compliments go right over her head. Lip however, does mean to be an asshole. Lip’s gonna Lip.


	8. Byron Salazar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality starts to hit Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are going to find that they soon actually have to deal with their issues. But not yet, because this chapter is all about sex and food. What more could you possibly want in life? Unbeta'd.

After the visit from their siblings things changed, not by much, but change at any point was uncomfortable. It was the barebacking in the back room of the gym, before people had even left, that really shook some reality into them. Rules had soon begrudgingly been established. **Rule #1:** Safe sex only. **Rule #2:** Nothing public, this meant nothing behind buildings, nothing at the dugout, they were in a locked room or nothing at all. Finally **Rule #3:** they were eventually going to have to talk about sexual history. Which neither were looking forward to. It was safe to say that Ian and Mickey were not only struggling to adhere to their own set of rules, but frustrations between them were heightened. 

It had all started on Tuesday, Ian’s weekly night out with his coworkers, when the trouble between them began. The dinner had started about 30 minutes later than usual due to lack of availability, and more patrons meant slower service. Ian sat at the table mid-meal when he glanced down at his phone. 

_9:05pm 5 messages. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: 🔪🔪🔪_

_Mickey: 🖕_

_Mickey: I lied before. Your ego isn’t reasonable. It’s fucking huge._

_Mickey: Also, your dick is too big._

_Mickey: I’m gonna go get fucked by a reasonably dick-sized humble person._

_Ian: You’re so annoying, right now. I’ll be back soon, wait up for me._

Mickey had been bitchy as fuck since their new rules, the lack of physical interaction, no matter how small, must have been getting to him. They also had managed to completely avoid **Rule #3**.

Wednesday wasn’t much better, after getting another _B_ in writing class he showed it to Ian cockily expecting something in return. A blow job, a hand job, and what did he get? Nothing but a friendly smile and a pat on the back. It was bullshit.

Thursday it was Ian’s turn to get annoyed. After a particularly stressful morning that involved setting up for the academy’s first wrestling match in decades, he needed a release. Mickey was at lunch when his phone went off. 

_3 messages. Cocktease Gallagher._

_Cocktease: Meet behind Building D in 5?_

_Cocktease: Quick?_ 🍆

_Cocktease: 😏_

_Mickey: Campus is crawling, can’t dumbass._

_Cocktease: 😠_

Predictably, Friday was the worst day, being it was their one-on-one time. Door open, Mickey on the bench press, Ian was staring at him as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks and Mickey was a turkey leg. They were still fucking, sure, but it was the small kisses, intimate touches, and grab-ass in between that was missing. You’d think the two were celibate based on their level of annoyance. Whether it was Ian’s sexual frustration or Mickey’s bitchy attitude, no one knew who grabbed who first, but it was John who found them in the hallway throwing punches at each other. The sound of the man’s voice snapped them out of it and forced the two apart. 

“You two. My office. Now!” His voice bellowing throughout the hallway.

That was how it happened. How they both found themselves with black eyes, ice packs in hand, sitting in John O’Hannigan’s office. The man was looking at them disappointingly. These kids were going to put him into an early grave.

“Ok. So… what the fuck’s going on?” John asked exasperated. 

Neither Mickey or Ian spoke. What was there to say? What lie were they going to conjure up now? With throbbing heads and overly emotional minds, the two just sat there, their overreactions sitting heavily between them. 

“Someone speak, or I will… and neither of you will like it.” John didn’t even know what he expected them to say. Ian was at a loss for words, luckily Mickey was a bit quicker. 

“It was my fault. I hit him. Got frustrated and punched him. He didn’t do anything.” Though neither boy remembered who actually threw the first punch, Mickey knew well enough to try to protect Ian’s job. 

“Mhmm…” John sat back eyeing the boys before sighing and running his hands over his face stressed. “Milkovich, go sit the rest of this class out. Ian, stay here.” Mickey didn’t move at first, instinct wanting to stay where Ian was, especially if he was about to get into trouble. To protect him from whatever was coming next. “Go.” John demanded when Mickey didn’t move, and with a groan Mickey finally stood and walked out the door.

“John, listen, I—” Ian began. 

“No, wait.” he brought his hand up to silence the redhead. “I know anything you’re about to say next, is bullshit. Everything he says is bullshit. So I’m going to talk. I’m not going to report this incident. I’m going to put myself on the line here, and not report what I so _clearly_ saw, and cannot _reasonably_ deny.” _Did that mean there were things he had seen that he could have denied?_ “I like you, Ian. A lot. I think this was the best hiring decision we’ve ever made. Professionally, I need to advise you to handle your relationship discreetly and privately.” _Oh fuck he knew._ “Personally, Ian… you two cannot keep being violent with each other. I’m telling you this as a friend. I know when you’re young it’s easy to get carried away. The older you get, the more consequences there will be for that sort of communication; legally, mentally, and emotionally. That’s not the path you want to take a relationship down. Got it?” _Oh he for sure knew._

“Got it.” Ian nodded solemnly. John was so obviously aware, and it seemed like he had known for a while. Ian was ashamed and embarrassed and it made him wonder what all he had seen over the past few months. 

“Listen, I think you may need a break from this place. After wrestling practice tomorrow do you want to come home with me for the weekend? My wife Melanie is a food blogger so there will be good food, a guest room… we’ve got every channel imaginable. Could be good to get a break from… everything.” _From Mickey._

Ian felt exposed, like John knew all the secrets he and Mickey thought that they had hid so well. He nodded his head. “Yeah I’d like that…” John was about to get up when Ian stopped him. “Wait. I need you to know. Mick’s background is…” _Fuck,_ he hated this so much. Not only did he feel like he was betraying Mickey by telling someone details of his life, but also Mandy. “His dad.” John sat down, eyes on Ian. “He’s a proud fag-basher, abuser.... I’m not saying you’d record this anywhere or tell anyone but… I have to protect Mickey, you know? If anyone found out…”

“On the record, I know nothing.” John reached out and brought his hand to Ian’s shoulder seeing the sadness and conflict in the boys face. “It’ll be okay, Ian.” Weirdly, Ian believed him.

The other four boys were already on edge by the fact Mickey had walked into the gym with an ice pack to his face, but when John walked in 10 minutes later with Ian, who also sported the same ice pack, the group looked oddly between each other. The lore surrounding the mysterious Milkovich was strong between the small group, and this only added to their late night theories of the thug that terrified them. 

Mickey’s eyes were on Ian as he walked over and sat next to him on the bleachers, holding the ice pack to his eye. “It’s fine.” Ian said noticing Mickey’s concerned face. “It’ll be fine.”

John went back to instructing the other boys as Ian and Mickey sat quietly. After a few minutes Mickey pushed down Ian’s ice pack to look over his eye. It was welted and he knew they’d both end up with pretty good shiners. The look on Mickey’s face said it all, _regret_. Ian wanted to lean over and kiss him to reassure him, but he couldn’t, as always there were people around. 

“We have to stop doing this,” He said before realizing he should clarify, he pointed to his face. Mickey sighed and nodded. “Not to say we can’t rough each other up once in a while but… the actual anger behind it...”

“Yeah.” 

Ian brought his hand up to Mickey’s shoulder reassuringly. “Also, John asked if I’d be willing to stay with him and his wife after practice tomorrow until Monday. Get a break.”

“A break… got it.” Mickey grumbled shrugging Ian’s hand off of his shoulder, leaving the two boys sitting in silence for the rest of the class. 

* * *

That night the two found themselves sitting at the dugout passing another joint from the kitchen staff back and forth. 

“So apparently Debbie is driving Mandy nuts.” Ian told the brunet next to him. “Always asking for makeup tips and to borrow her clothes. I think Mandy secretly loves it though.” Mickey was quiet and didn’t say anything in return. It had been a hard day for them and while Ian was trying to lighten the mood it was hard for Mickey to play along. "She said Terry is acting all big and tough about how you’re giving him all this amazing useful intel, but he’s still not acting on it. She thinks he’ll call you back any day now.” This caused a headache to creep into the back of Mickey’s skull. 

Ian looked at Mickey, reading every thought that played out on his face. It was the emotional paralysis again, being stuck between two worlds that didn’t make sense together, that couldn’t exist together, belonging to neither. Mickey envied how Ian seemed to be able to belong anywhere, conform to anything. Mickey felt trapped. With a sigh Ian reached over and stroked the back of Mickey’s head, and closing his eyes Mickey leaned into it, the move comforting. “Everything’s going to be ok, Mick.” Weirdly, Mickey believed him. 

The next morning, Ian, with a fresh black eye, was helping John prepare for wrestling practice when the coach approached him. “You know he probably shouldn’t come today, right?” And Ian knew he was right. Practice always triggered something; a fight, jealousy, or a fuck - it was fuel to their fire, usually in a good way, but not in a discreet way. 

“I’ll let him know.” Ian in fact, did not let him know. Sure it was the right thing to do, but he wanted to see his boyfriend, show off for him, so when Mickey showed up, homework in hand. No one said a word. Mickey worked quietly while Ian did his job. Water break came and went with no words exchanged, then just as practice was finishing up, someone Mickey did not expect sat down next to him. 

“Hey, handsome.” Pierce _fucking_ Cooke, his archenemy. “That fiery energy of yours is lacking today, someone throw water on your heat?” Mickey stared at this kid like he had lost his fucking mind. “Listen, you sold some Adderall to Byron Salazar, which helped him pass his Chem test. That earned him a new car. So, as a _thank you_ he asked me to invite you to a party he’s throwing Sunday night.” Pierce took out his phone and opened up a new contact. 

“Why didn’t he ask me himself?” Mickey asked challengingly.

“Because he's a good friend, good friends give you opportunities to talk to guys you find hot.” Pierce handed Mickey his phone, the intention clear for him to type in his number so he could send the details. Once he did Pierce smiled and gave Mickey a wink before hitting _save_. “Get that anger back before Sunday, yeah? It does something to me.” As he got up to walk away he called over his shoulder. “Black eye… hot.”

Ian had watched the interaction from the gym doors, everything from Pierce sliding up to Mickey, to Mickey putting his number into his phone, to the _hot_ at the end. He felt a heat stirring in his gut. _Pierce Cooke had to die._

Ian was walking up to Mickey as Pierce was walking away, Ian resisted the urge to body-check him. He looked at Mickey clearly disturbed by what he had seen, the question clear on his face. 

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened.” Mickey said more shocked than Ian. “If he’s trying to get us both to bang him, I think it’s fucking working.” Ian frowned as Mickey shoved some papers into his textbook before looking around the gym seeing everyone was gone. “So 2 nights, huh?”

“2 nights.” Ian confirmed. Mickey scratched his forehead with his thumbnail clearly stressed. “That’ll be new for us.”

“Guess so.” Mickey began down the bleachers Ian on his tail and before he could walk out Ian grabbed him from behind pushing him up against one of the gym walls covering his body with his. Obviously breaking their first rule. 

“Don’t sleep with Pierce.” Ian demanded, eyes dark. 

“Don’t think we agreed to be exclusive, Gallagher.” Mickey teased darkly, his eyes lingering on the heated redhead. _Fuck, he was so hot._

“Don’t. You fuck _me_. Got it.” Mickey smirked and raised his eyebrows briefly before closing the miniscule amount of space between them capturing Ian’s lips with his in a needy and desperate kiss. They were out in the open however, so it didn’t last long. 

“Got it, firecrotch.” Their hearts racing, their blood pumping, their heads spinning. Rules were meant to be broken, and it took only a week for their new rules to be out the window. 

* * *

_1 message. Mandy Milkovich._

_Mandy: Updates on the closeted boyfriend?_

_Ian: My life is wrecked._

_Mandy: That good? Usually the ones that do that are dangerous. Be careful, idiot._

_Ian: I don’t think careful means anything anymore_

_Mandy: You are wrecked._

* * *

After practice Ian went back to his room and packed a few things into his duffle bag before leaving a note for his roommate telling him he’d be gone for the weekend. The mysteriousness of this man drove Ian nuts. One day they would actually talk face to face. Soon Ian was in John’s car heading towards the suburbs. It gave Ian a chance to call in a refill for his meds, and John had no problem taking Ian to the local pharmacy. John sat in his car listening to sports radio, catching up on the recent score of a game while Ian walked around inside waiting for his prescription to be ready. He went ahead and stocked up on a few things throwing items into his basket, before finally adding a six-pack of beer. Fishing through his wallet for his fake I.D, it was pretty easy for him to get through. Finally his prescription was ready and they were off. 

When Ian walked through the door of John’s modest cookie cutter home that sat on a cul-de-sac, he was not surprised by what he found. It looked exactly like what people thought of when they saw John. A large-screen tv, with a La-Z-Boy couch, and small touches sprinkled around such as fresh flowers, magazines, and the like. 

“Hello?” He heard the voice of a woman, and soon a small petite blond, who looked like she was smuggling a basketball under her shirt, walked out of the kitchen. “Hi! You’re Ian, right? My name is Melanie, I’m John’s wife.” She smiled brightly before shaking his hand, Ian detected a hint of an accent but he didn’t have a clue about it’s origin. 

“Hi Melanie, thank you for inviting me, it’ll be nice to get away from the same 3 buildings for a while.”

“I am sure! Well I have dinner simmering, nothing too fancy just a simple coq au vin, do you drink wine, Ian? What am I saying? Of course you do.” She walked over to the dining room and opened up what looked to be a wine cabinet. 

“He’s 17, Melanie.” John interjected before walking up to his shuffling wife to give her a quick kiss. “While she works to corrupt you, let me show you where the guest room is.” Ian followed John to a door right off of the living room, it was exactly what one would expect of a guest room. It had a bed, a dresser, a small television, along with fresh towels. _They were really TV people_ , Ian noted. “Bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. Make yourself comfortable while I make sure Melanie isn’t pulling out the 2001 Côtes du Rhône _._ ” Ian tossed his duffle on the floor next to the dresser and went ahead to shove his purchased contraband into it. This was oddly everything he had expected of John and his wife. Digging through his pocket he pulled out his phone. 

_2 messages. Micky Milkovich._

_Mickey: 🖕_

_Mickey: 🔪_

_Ian: What are you doing?_

_Mickey: 1 image._

Ian smiled at the picture of a sandwich with Mickey’s middle finger in frame. 

Walking out of the guest room Ian walked into the kitchen to see Melanie pulling out plates and glasses from the cabinets. This was definitely the kitchen of a food blogger, she had state of the art appliances, everything matched, and cookbooks propped up on various surfaces. It was impressive. 

“Need help?” 

“Oh!” Melanie smiled, “Yes. Would you mind setting the table?” 

“Sure.” Though Ian wasn’t really sure how to correctly set a table, he grabbed the plates and silverware and made his best attempt. Either he was correct or they were being polite because Melanie didn’t say anything as she brought out the freshly opened bottle of wine pouring the contents into a decanter. After about 20 minutes Ian found himself sitting at a table eating one of the best meals he’d had in a long time, with a glass of wine, and two very friendly people. 

“So Ian, how did you find yourself working with my husband?” Melanie asked, all smiles. 

“Oh.” _Shit_ , where did he start? “I used to dream of being in the Army, really liked the physical aspect of it, worked out a lot. Some stuff happened. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Worked through that. When I saw the job listing it seemed like a great opportunity to return to something I enjoy, while trying to rebuild.”

Melanie nodded, “John said you ended up running into a friend too, what are the odds?”

“Oh god… I mean, how that even happened feels orchestrated,” Ian laughed a bit at how ridiculous the entire thing was. “Yeah that was a shock.”

“Ah, orchestrated. The Fates…” She mused a bit to herself. “Powerful, The Fates are. You know, they were said to be so powerful that both humans and gods feared them.” Ian smiled, she was just so whimsical, reminding him a bit of Joan. “It must feel good though, right? Seeing someone from home, so far away from your family.”

“Yeah… and if we’re being honest, I don't think he’d be doing well there by himself. I don’t know how well I’d do either.” It was easy to speculate the _what ifs_ all night long but all Ian knew was that he was grateful to whatever destined action brought them to the strange place together. 

“Melanie, stop harassing the boy.” John teased her and she shrugged her shoulders. 

“Are you two looking forward to the baby?” Ian asked, knowing John had been going to quite a few appointments. 

“We are! We had been trying for a while, so this was a miracle. I’m due in about three months, but I am already tired of my body being tired.” Melanie was sweet and kind, and she seemed to fit with John well. Middle-class people just trying to build a family in a seemingly normal home. Ian found it peaceful and boring. Was this something he’d ever have much less even want? After dinner Ian helped Melanie clear the table while John took to washing dishes and then the three took to the living room to watch a little television 

* * *

Mickey was doing his best to distract himself as he sat at the dugout alone, algebra book in front of him as he worked through his homework. Ian usually helped him with this subject and he was finding himself frustrated without someone to ask questions. However, after a curse word or two he was figuring it out. Once he got to a stopping point he took out his phone.

_9:24pm._

_1 message. Cocktease Gallagher._

_Cocktease: 1 image._

Ian sent a selfie, looking freshly showered, shirtless, and sitting in a bed, the blue light of a television illuminating him. 

_Mickey: Jerking it?_

_Cocktease: In someone else’s bed. Fuck no._

_Cocktease: what are you doing?_

_Mickey: 1 image._

Mickey sent a picture of the darkened baseball field. 

_1 message. Unknown._

_Unknown: Hope to see you tomorrow. 🍑_

_The fuck?_ Mickey looked at his phone a bit before looking at the side buttons trying to remember Mandy showing him how to take a screenshot. He finally figured it out and sent it to Ian. 

_Cocktease: 🙄_ _Fucking Cooke. Let’s kill him._

_Mickey: Easy there Gallagher. Don’t rush to anything rash. No three-way?_

_Cocktease: 🔪🔪_

_Mickey: Used to being the pretty one? Face it, I’m hot._

He chuckled to himself as he stared at the screen, a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

_Cocktease: 1 image._

Ian sent him a picture of his hard dick, the angle from above, the photo framing his abs all the way down his happy trail. 

_Mickey: Fuck man. Sending that shit when I won’t see you til Monday is fucked up._

_Cocktease: Send me one._

_Mickey: If I take out my dick, outside alone, at a school. I’ll end up on a list man._

_Cocktease: 🙄_ _Guess I’ll just have to think about random things and people as I take care of it._

_Mickey: You did that shit to yourself._

_Cocktease: Call me. I want to hear your voice._

Ian Gallagher was going to be the death of him. Hitting the call button it didn’t take long to hear Ian on the other end. 

“Fucking up my homework, man.” Mickey chastised him.

“Shut up, Mickey.” Ian took his dick in his hand, “Talk to me.” 

“You want me to talk dirty to you?” Mickey could hear him breathing hard on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know what to say, Gallagher. You want me to talk about your dick or something? Fuck.”

“Get creative.” Ian suggested as he began to stroke himself. 

“Why does that kid think I’m gay?” Mickey asked slightly offended. 

“Because you— _Mickey_ … unless you have a surprise for me, I think you might be a _little_ gay.”

“No, I mean… _yeah_ but like why does he think I’m gay?”

“He might not even think you’re really gay, he’s hot, man. Guys like him think they can have anyone, gay or not. Now shut up and let’s have phone sex.”

Nothing he could think of saying felt right, all too… porn-like and unnatural so Mickey decided to go to a different route. 

“Did it make you jealous when that kid asked for my number?” Not what Ian was expecting, but the question certainly added heat to his gut. 

“Yes.” he confirmed as he pleasured himself. Mickey smiled, his idea seemed to be working just fine for Ian.

“Do you want me to fuck other guys or just you, huh?”

“You know the answer to that.” Ian’s heart began to beat a bit faster.

“Say it.” Mickey goaded. 

“Just me. I want you to fuck just me.” A groaned slipped from his lips. The sounds from the phone were making Mickey hard. 

“Does it turn you on? Him thinking I’m hot.” Ok, maybe this was a little fun. 

“Yes.” Ian groaned. 

“Does it turn you on that someone else wants to fuck me?” he asked taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Uhnnhhh… yeah.” Hearing the noises Ian was making, Mickey knew he’d be jerking it in the shower after this.

“Too bad for them, huh? My ass is yours.”

“Say that again.” Mickey loved how into this Ian was. 

“You’re the only guy I’ve ever blown.” He exhaled and smirked to himself at the hushed noises from the other end of the phone. “Gonna come?”

“Yes.” Ian breathed deeply, “Almost. Talk more.” Mickey had to resist reaching down to touch himself.

“Remember when I’d come to Kash and Grab all the time stealing shit?”

“Yeah?” Ian asked breathlessly. 

“It’s because I had a thing for you. Wanted to fuck you so bad.” Mickey chuckled when he heard Ian grunt shakily on the other end of the phone, coming onto his chest, careful to avoid the sheets. Mickey waited patiently, listening for his breathing to settle. 

“Mickey.” Ian’s voice was back to normal. “You were shot for that! You went to fucking juvie for that!”

_______________________________

_10:15pm_

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich_

_Mickey: 1 image._

_Mickey: Reciprocity, bitch._

_______________________________

Ian woke up the next morning at about 10am after spending the entire night on the phone with Mickey, once he sent him his own photo the two had been at it again. Also sleeping in a real bed made him realize how shitty the ones at the school were. He supposed that even rich kids couldn’t be trusted with decent furniture. After getting dressed and leaving the guest room he walked into the kitchen to see Melanie struggling with a cast iron pot, attempting to bring it down off of a high shelf. 

“Whoa.” Ian was quick to assist, reaching up and bringing it down for her. She smiled instantly. 

“You are a life-saver, thank you. Le Creuset’s are incredible… but they are a bitch.” Melanie laughed a bit to herself as she went back to an open cookbook she had and was flipping through. “Were you hungry? Did you want a bite? I think John’s going to be turning the Sunday game on soon for you two to enjoy.”

Ian shook his head, “Last night was the most food I’ve eaten in a while, I think I’m good until Tuesday. So uh… you’re good at this? Cooking and stuff?”

“I am! Or at least I like to think so.”

“So let’s say I wanted to make something for someone, like… food. How exactly would someone go about that?”

 _Was he not the most precious thing in the world? She wanted to braise him up and eat him._ “Is this for a special friend?” Ian nodded. “One you’ll see within the next few days?” 

“Yeah…”

“Ok so, if I am anything it is a romantic and I have a blog post due today. I was going to make a cassoulet, but this sounds much more fun. A mission of love, Ian. That is what food is all about.” It was then John walked into the kitchen. 

“Ian, I’ve got the game on, want to join?” Melanie was quick. 

“No, he’s mine today. You leave us be, we’re on a mission of food.”

“I know what that means.” John mused before leaning over and kissing his wife. “Good luck, Ian.” John grabbed a bag of chips from the cabinet and left to sit in front of the TV. 

“So do you know what this person likes to eat?”

“He likes Sandwiches.”

“And…”

“Beer.”

Melanie nodded, “Beer is a starting point. When you don’t know what to make you must first start with what you do know. Beer. What type of beer?”

Ian wasn’t sure. “Just… beer.” Melanie nodded again with a chuckle. 

“OK so most people do not know this, but beer goes very well with a hearty, disgustingly decadent, Macaroni and Cheese. What do you think?”

Ian could see Mickey eating it. “Perfect.”

Before Ian knew what hit him he and Melanie were walking down grocery store aisles picking up supplies. 

“So tell me about the boy.” She coaxed as she eyed the pastas available on the shelf. After a few minutes she picked out a pound of the jumbo macaroni noodles. 

“He terrifies me. I feel like I keep making all these mistakes. Ones that could hurt us both, but in the moment, seems so right.” Ian admitted, “It’s only after do I realize we’re doing something stupid.” It was clear Ian was stressed and Melanie noticed rubbing his shoulder encouragingly. 

“One of my favorite quotes is _l’amour_ _, c’est_ _renoncer_ _à_ _l’intelligence_ _pour_ _vivre_ _de_ _ses_ _sens_.” Ian waited for some sort of explanation. “It means that you cannot love with this…” She reached up and knocked him in the head with her knuckles. “It doesn’t work. Love is about the senses. The emotions. To be afraid… that means you’re onto something important. If you’re not swept up, what is the point?”

They walked to the dairy section where Melanie picked out 2 different types of cheeses before picking up some whole milk and a package of cream cheese. “Do you feel like you two together could survive anything?”

Ian hadn’t thought about it but…. yeah. _Anything_. Anything Mickey was afraid of Ian wasn’t, and vise versa, it worked. “Yeah. Anything.”

“Then continue to be afraid, let your feelings scare you. You’ll miss it when it’s gone.” They then went to the beer section and Melanie grabbed a pilsner before grabbing a 6-pack for John.

Once the two were back and in the kitchen Melanie threw an apron around Ian before grabbing one for herself. He took the opportunity to snap a selfie in his kitchen wear before taking one of him and Melanie angled downward, happily showing off their outfits and her growing belly. She was going to make a great mother, Melanie walked him through making a roux, she explained the flavor the beer added as they poured it into the pot with milk creating a béchamel. That simmered around a block of cream cheese before it was time to add in the actual cheeses. Melanie went into great detail about why they chose both a hard cheese and a soft cheese to pair. The hard added flavor while the soft added stretch. Though, her explanation was much more thorough. Finally they had the most perfect cheese sauce, and once mixed in with the macaroni, they snapped pictures of their dish. She took a few staged photos for her blog, before serving up two servings into plastic containers for him to take with him the next day. 

Once they cleaned up and served up more portions for the three of them, they sat happily watching the football game, tucking into some of the best Mac and Cheese they had ever eaten. 

It was about 5pm when Melanie posted her new blog entry titled _Through the Stomach_. It featured the picture of her and Ian in their aprons with a quote that read _Food is symbolic of love when words are inadequate - Alan D. Wolfelt_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter to write. The next chapter will be titled Channing Shaw.


	9. Channing Shaw Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not every kid cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want these kids to be happy. Unbeta'd. 
> 
> TWs: This chapter contains canon typical slurs, talk about past grooming of Ian, and Mickey's traumatic childhood imposed on him by his father. Nothing in great detail, just what you would expect of two people talking about their experiences.

It was 7pm when Mickey’s phone went off with another text from the Unknown number, it contained details about where the party was located. Did Mickey want to socialize with these kids? No. Was he going to collect more intel to give his father? No. Did he think they had alcohol and maybe some party favors? Yeah. Mickey went up to the 5th floor of the D building and it was more than clear a party had taken over the entire floor. Music was playing, dorm doors were open, kids making out with women on various surfaces. How the fuck did they pull this off? The length he and Ian had to go to in order to fuck, and these kids were throwing a rager. As if his mind was being read, Byron Salazar shoved a red solo cup into his hand. “We paid off the RAs.” He explained with a grin. “Girls are paid for, feel free to indulge.”

Mickey sniffed the cup he was handed. Vodka. He took a sip. This looked like an upper-class version of a Milkovich party. His eyes darted around; students, red blazers, older women, alcohol, and various surfaces littered with drugs. Impressive. Of course he had zero interest in any of these people so he found a old mattress that looked like it had been pulled from storage and set up against a wall. He took a seat as he watched the party in front of him unfold. After about 30 minutes of Mickey enjoying his own personal _HBO After Dark_ his phone buzzed. 

_1 message. Cocktease Gallagher._

_Cocktease: 1 image._

Micky smiled at the photo of Ian wearing an apron next to a blond woman. Holding his cup with his teeth he snapped a quick selfie and sent it back. 

_Cocktease: Where are you?_

_Mickey: These kids are throwing an alcohol and drug fueled party. With hookers. It’s not entirely unimpressive. Though I feel bad for the girls dealing with these dicks. You should be here._

_Cocktease: And what would I get out of a party like that?_

_Mickey: Me, two vodkas in._

_Cocktease: Don’t do anything stupid, OK? I want to make sure that when I get back you are 100% ready to go._

_Mickey: I am a modern woman, you cannot just have me whenever you please._

_Cocktease: I miss you._

_Mickey: Me too._

Mickey was on his third Vodka, randomly texting Ian when he felt someone sit down next to him. Looking over Mickey groaned. 

“Of course.” Pierce _fucking_ Cooke. 

“Normally not the response I get.” He teased cocking an eyebrow before offering up a line of coke that was already lined up on his hand. Mickey leaned over without any hesitated and snorted it. Not something he did a lot of, but when the Milkovichs found themselves in supply it wasn’t odd to partake. “Enjoying the party?”

“Isn’t everyone? Enough vodka and drugs here to supply an entire Russian whorehouse.”

“Had experience?” Cooke asked flirtatiously, Mickey rolled his eyes. 

“You’d be shocked.”

“Not a lot shocks me.”

God, this kid was cockier than Gallagher. He had nothing to prove to this guy and sure as hell wasn’t about to break down the details of his brothel experience. 

“You got a thing for that gym assistant, yeah?” The uninhibited nature of the vodka paired with the speed of the coke was making him uncharacteristically chatty. 

Peirce smirked and shrugged. “A tall gorgeous redhead who is untouchable? Who doesn’t? I made an attempt but he turned me down. Blah blah rules and boyfriends blah blah.” Peirce reached over taking Mickey’s drink and sipping from it himself.

“He said he had a boyfriend?” 

“I didn’t take in the details. Once I realized it wasn’t happening I moved my attention elsewhere. Tony said you two got into it on Friday, fight broke out apparently… something about that… turns a guy on, you know?” Pierce had no sense of personal space and Mickey felt crowded. Not a feeling he enjoyed.

“Guess so.” Mickey knew fully well what a turn on it was. It was what fueled the entire first month of he and Ian’s relationship.

“So what do you say? Let me suck your dick?” Peirce asked knocking his shoulder against Mickey’s.

“Not really into that, man.” Mickey reached into his pocket to pull out his smokes. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t even looked at the paid girls. Not everyone is into the hooker thing, I get it. So listen…you’re here… we both know I’m pretty enough to bridge the gap. What are you gonna do? Not get any until you go back home? What life is that?” Mickey lit up a cigarette before taking a drag. This place was weirdly a lot like juvie.

“I appreciate the offer man, but uh…”

“You got a girl?"

Mickey didn’t respond, and instead exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, turning his head to look at the Italian God sitting next to him. Not one to let a chance pass, Peirce leaned over to kiss Mickey but the moment their lips touched Mickey pulled back creating distance. 

“Oh, so it’s serious then, huh? Well… what can I say? I took my shot. If you change your mind come find me.”

Once Peirce was gone Mickey ran his hands over his face before getting up to leave. It had been fun. He got his buzz, he got his drugs, but these people were insufferable. He was in the elevator cigarette hanging out of his mouth when his phone rang. Ian. 

“Hey man.” Mickey said bringing the phone to his ear as he stepped out of the elevator. Ian sensed the stress in his voice. 

“You okay?”

“Fucking rich fucks so entitled.” Mickey walked outside and sat behind the building hoping security would just leave him be. “Update if you’re interested. Model kid does not think I’m a fag, but he asked if he could suck me off, so… somehow I guess that’s a happy middle ground?” He slid down onto the grass leaning against the brick building.

“He what?!” Ian asked sitting up in the guest bed he was in. 

“Yeah, guess it got around the student body that you and I were throwing fists. My bad boy reputation is in tact though, they have no idea it was just…”

“Sexual frustration.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Mickey chuckled and took another drag off of his smoke. “Said you turned him down…” 

Silence. 

“Well you know… job and all that.”

“Mhmm… probably a good move because he’s a thirsty motherfucker. Mandy probably had a chance with him. He threw out one final shot and kissed me. At that point, with the coke and the vodka, it was enough of a shock to my system.” 

Ian’s stomach dropped, “He kissed you?”

“Barely, man.” Mickey couldn’t help but smirk at how bothered this was making Ian. “So tell me again why you left for the weekend?”

Ian groaned, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“My lonely ass is being chased around this campus by a fucking horny statue the second you leave. Come back, can’t fend him off forever.”

“Well I have something for you tomorrow, okay? So relax and know your ass will be warm again soon.”

The two sat quietly on the phone for a moment, the sound of their breathing filling space. The comfort in each other’s silence was strange, Mickey hadn’t anticipated that this thing with Ian would be so easy.

“You know…” Mickey began, “Over halfway through with this semester.”

“Yeah… you going to continue after?”

Mickey shrugged, “Doubt pops is going to let me finish this one much less come back for a second.”

“What happens…” Ian was tense. “Going back… I can’t… before…”

_Emotional Translator: If you go back, what is going to happened between us? I can’t handle things going back to how they were before._

“I don’t know, Gallagher. I can’t… there.”

_Emotional Translator: I can’t be free there, I am not in control there._

“What do you want, Mickey?” Ian asked, a desperation in his voice.

_Emotional Translator: Tell me you want me. Tell me I’m worth it._

“I want this.” Mickey spoke confidently. 

_Emotional Translator: I want you._

The two stayed on the phone that night, they didn’t speak. Instead Mickey sat on the phone until he was sure Ian had fallen asleep.

* * *

Monday came and Ian was on edge, he wanted to see Mickey, though knowing their schedules the odds of a casual run-in were low. Lunch came, Ian and Joan found themselves together eating and talking about nonsense. Joan shared more about her life, living with her mother for which she cared for, and her blossoming relationship. 

“Have you ever heard of The Fates?” Ian asked out of nowhere and Joan smiled a bit and shrugged. 

“Sure, which pantheon?”

“Oh uhh… I don’t know.”

“I’m a fan of the Italian Parcae myself but it’s all the same stuff different names.”

“Someone mentioned it to me the other day and I found it fascinating.”

“The Fates are said to control the lives of humans, when they are born, how they live, and how they die. There is the Nonna, she is the creator of human life, they say she dictates how we are born. Then the Decuma, she dictates our daily lives and how it is woven. Then finally there is Morta, she is death, she controls when things end.”

“Wow… you just know that stuff?”

“It pays to be a nerd, Ian.” Joan smiled taking a bite of her food. “Thinking about fate a lot, huh? The grand plan?”

“I have… do you believe in fate?”

Joan sighed, “It’s comforting. The idea that we are handed beautiful things, and beautiful things end as a part of a grand tapestry of life. It’s scary to think some of the best things and worst things are nothing more than chance. So yeah. I’d rather live believing we live in some sort of narrative. You falling in love, Ian?” A smile was tugging at her lips. He looked at her a bit wide eyed, was he? Maybe? What even was love? “I ask because people tend to think about the universe in these grand romantic ways when they’re falling in love.”

“Maybe. I think so… what even is love?” he asked, his voice vulnerable. 

Joan seemed to think about it for a moment. "I think you’ll know when not saying those _three little words_ feels like the most painful thing in the world.”

* * *

It was 8:05pm and Mickey was pacing the dugout, _where the fuck was this guy?_ Two more minutes and he was going to be texting him with meaningless threats. He hadn’t seen Gallagher in two days, what kind of bullshit was this? His own spiral was the reason he didn’t hear the footsteps but when he was being turned around by familiar hands he smiled as Ian’s lips crashed against his, pushing him hard against the fence of the dugout. Mickey gripped at Ian’s waist, the feel of Ian’s body against his was comforting. It didn’t last long because soon Ian was pulling away and Mickey grumbled. “Let’s do this.” he said desperately. 

“Wait.” Ian said grabbing Mickey’s shirt and tugging him away from the baseball field and towards the back of the Phys Ed building. “I’ve got something for you.” Using his key card to unlock the door he pulled him quickly to the back room. The door was cracked open and the light was on. Ian pushed it open to reveal makeshift picnic. He had mac and cheese in the plastic containers with plastic forks along with cold, out of the Phys Ed fridge, beers waiting. 

“Don’t gotta woo me, but fuck I’ll take it.” Ian smiled and soon the two were sitting on the hard floor, beers in hand, as they dug into Melanie’s food. 

“This is amazing, man.” Mickey was stuffing his face as if he hadn’t eaten in months. “Hot fucking food, you know? Fuck this is good. This what you were doing in that apron?”

Ian smiled proudly. “John’s wife and I made it.”

“Well fuck me, we gotta get you barefoot and pregnant and into the kitchen.” He said taking a drink from the beer can. “And fucking beer… if this is so I will blow you, it’s much appreciated, but I would have blown you without all this.”

“Well my intentions aren’t completely pure… you said if I got you a beer we’d chat about things and since we’ve been avoiding chats, this is my bribe.”

Mickey froze, looking at Ian, the whole night suddenly becoming more stressful, what he didn’t realize was that Ian was much more afraid than he was. “I’m going to need more beer for this.” Ian got up and disappeared before returning with 4 more cans of beer.

“The sooner we do this, the sooner it’s over.” Ian said causing Mickey to chuckle. 

“Sounds like something I’ve heard before.” Ian rolled his eyes and groaned. He already hated this so much.

“Come on, Mickey. So how many people have you fucked?” This was going to be a long night. 

“Men or women?”

Oh yeah, Ian really _hated_ this. “Women, first, I guess.”

“Ok so…” he chugged a bit of his beer. “Hooker when I was 13th, birthday gift from pops. Again at 14, 2 at 15, and then once I hit 16 I was able to avoid it. I mean you can only try to fuck the gay out so much before it’s just a pointless cause. So 4 hookers, then Angie, just because you know… everyone fucked Angie. So 5, none since 16. Now men? 2.”

“So two and then me?”

“Not including you? Then one.”

“So just me and the middle school teacher?”

“Pretty much. Fucked him when I was 15, last juvie stint I was given a clean bill of health. So… I’m all good.” Ian was quite surprised. The amount of sex workers Mickey, or most likely, Mickey’s family had purchased for him was a bit surprising, but also he had only been with one other guy besides Ian?

“Please tell me about the middle school teacher before I die, Mickey.” He had been aching for this story. Ian then began drinking more of his beer and finishing off his food before pushing it away. 

“Feel like I’m handing over my only gambling chip. Ok so… as you can imagine fucking women wasn’t going so well. I had a… feeling that I wanted to fuck dudes. Really determined to prove myself wrong, I needed to give it a shot right? Well you know where we live, couldn’t risk anyone finding anything out so I had to find someone who had more to lose than me… remember Mr. Garcia?”

Ian’s eyes widened. “I had him for 8th grade English. You fucked Uber-Catholic, 6 kids and a wife, Garcia?”

“Oh yeah. I figured if anyone would keep their mouth shut it was him. Acted like I had to ask him something about Mandy’s homework or some shit, seduced his closeted ass, and he fucked me over his desk. Cried the whole time. It was pretty awesome.”

“The crying or the sex?”

“Oh the crying… the sex was whatever, but it did confirm that I was into cock so… that was a bit of a bummer. Couldn’t act on any of it, so I just threw all my energy into—”

“Robbing the Kash and Grab.” Ian finished.

Mickey smiled, eyebrows cocking. “Yeah. Got that energy out by being a fucking terror.”

“That’s your only experience with a guy? Bent over a desk as a crying catholic fucks you?” That meant that Ian was responsible for the hand jobs, the blow jobs, and even… “even kissing?”

Mickey nodded, “Just fucked, anything else was you firecrotch. You were starting to hang around a lot too, you and Mandy always half-naked doing god knows what, got me so wound up, right after I chose a life of denial. It was too much, so I panicked and punched a cop. Seemed safer in juvie than dealing with all that around my pops.”

Ian was on Mickey, kissing him slow and gently, his hand stroking the side of his face. He knew Mickey hadn’t had it easy but _fucking him straight_ , _catholic teacher_ , and _rather be in_ _juvie_ pieces of it all tugged at Ian’s heart strings. Also he’d be lying if he said knowing Mickey was into him back then was really hot. Once the kiss broke Mickey nodded, he _hated_ this “Your turn.”

Ian took a deep breath, and before he said anything else he kissed Mickey again. This time it was deeper and more needy and breaking it took a lot of strength on Ian’s part but when he did he sat back down and cracked himself open a new beer, waiting for Mickey to follow his lead.

“Making me nervous, Gallagher.”

“Women, none. I think anyways. Mandy tried, I rejected her, you and your brothers came after me. As for men… I was fucking Kash, which… at the time I thought I was into him but he started going after me when I was 14, kind of fucked up in retrospect. Then there was Fi’s boyfriend’s dad, another old dude trying to bang me as a kid. Then a few guys from JROTC… did Mandy tell you anything about when I left?”

Mickey shook his head, “Knew you ran off, came back with some issues, she said it was health stuff. Didn’t tell me anything else.” Ian seemed really nervous. Mickey could tell how hard this obviously was for Ian to talk about. Seeing Ian, nervous… sad caused feeling in him he was not used to. He wanted to say _fuck it_ , they didn’t have to talk about it. 

“Last year I ran off. Joined the Army, went AWOL, and began working as a dancer at a club in Boystown. I have bipolar disorder, like my mother.” Mickey didn’t really understand what that was but he could always google it later without Ian having to go too into it. “I didn’t know that’s what was going on. We don’t have to get that into it right now but… I did a lot of things. I partied, I fucked, I got high, I was barely aware of what I was doing half of the time. Anyone with a $50 bill had my time.” Ian took a deep breath, every word felt like a death sentence to this relationship. “I did a porno, bareback. I think that was my lowest point. I was seeing a guy from my G.E.D class in Spring. I told him all of this and he ghosted on me. Never called me or texted me back.” Ian at this point was more interested in looking at his beer than Mickey. 

“I’m clean, somehow, but… I don’t know how many people I’ve fucked, I don’t know who I’ve fucked, and I don’t know all that I’ve done…” They were quiet for a moment, neither spoke. Ian didn’t want to look at Mickey and see a reaction that he didn’t want, but he finally did. He tore his eyes away from his beer can and met Mickey’s blue ones. Mickey looked… soft. 

“Come here…” Mickey said reaching for Ian, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling Ian’s lips to his. His kissed him tenderly, his hands cradling his head as he pulled the redhead as close to him as possible. Ian felt instant relief, the fears of Mickey walking away from him were gone, replaced with the feeling of his lips. 

“Oh wait I forgot one…” Ian said against Mickey’s mouth. “Lip’s girlfriend tried to blow me.” This caused Mickey to laugh and pullback shaking his head. 

“I fucking hate you, Ian.” Mickey laughed picking up his beer and finishing it off. 

“What did you call me?” Ian teased. 

“What? By your name, you idiot.”

“You’ve never called me Ian.”

“That can’t be true.” Mickey was floored. 

“Firecrotch, fuckface, dipshit, douchebag, idiot, Gallagher, The Other Gallagher, Mandy’s Gallagher… you’ve only ever called me Ian when you’re coming.”

Mickey had to think back… was that true? “I can’t remember something like that.”

“I remember very well because it’s kind of my favorite sound. Say it again…”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “No, because of this I am now never saying it.” Ian leaned forward kissing him gently. 

“Say it.” He kissed again. 

“Ian.” He kissed him back. “There. Happy? Can’t believe you fucked the owner of that fucking store, man. He shot me in the leg.”

“You shouldn’t have been robbing it.” Ian countered. 

* * *

It was Tuesday afternoon when Ian and Joan were enjoying their lunch together. It was the perfect Fall day, the bite of winter near but not quite there yet. Joan was talking about current events that Ian was unaware of but she was just so passionate he didn’t mind listening. Across the courtyard John and Olivia were chatting about grades and the upcoming wrestling match, the breeze was pleasant, the leaves were falling, there was nothing in that moment that could go wrong. Until it did. 

As if trained to hear his voice in a crowd Ian heard Channing Shaw call out to someone, “Saw you cozying up to Cooke on Sunday,” His tone was the same teasing manner that it always was, but then the next part came out cold and harsh. “Fucking faggot!” In that moment it was as if time had stopped, Ian followed Channing’s line of sight to Mickey and, he had done it, he finally hit a button. Mickey’s face turned from apathetic to murderous within seconds and he began charging for the blond kid. 

“What the fuck did you just call me?!” Mickey bellowed out heading for his target white hot anger in his eyes. 

“Oh _shit_.” Ian muttered before he was up and running towards the blood bath that was about to erupt in the middle of the quad. All eyes were on them, panic and urgency clear on every bystander’s face. Mickey got to Shaw and with no effort knocked the kid on his ass before looming over him, eyes crazed. He reached down and grabbed the kid by his shirt pulling him off the ground and bringing his fist back. Then, just before the sweet sound of bones crunching could begin, Mickey felt himself being heaved back, a strong arm around his neck and another around his arm. Mickey struggled against it, his adrenaline pumping, seeing nothing but red. Ian managed to get him down to the ground, climbing on top of him to pin him down.

“Calm the fuck down!” Ian yelled to the angry Pitbull beneath him. Fuck, Mickey was all muscle and it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. The brunet was struggling beneath Ian desperate to get his hands on that fucking kid. “Mickey, fucking stop.” Ian didn’t know how much longer he could restrain the adrenaline fueled man. He took a risk, a big risk, Mickey was known for head-butting and Ian knew he wouldn’t hesitate but leaning down Ian brought his face to Mickey’s. “Mickey. Look at me.” His voice softer and more firm. “Mick. Calm down. Look at me…” Finally it was like something snapped and Mickey’s eyes met Ian’s, the rage and anger fading from his face. “Hey… everything’s ok. You good?” Mickey took a deep breath and nodded his head. “You’re cool, everything is okay.” Ian let go of his arms and before anyone could see ran a hand down the side of Mickey’s face. 

Olivia and Joan were rushing to help up the shaking Channing kid while John was running to assist Ian but by the time he got there, the redhead was sitting on top of Milkovich calming him down, and soon helping him up off the ground. Olivia was pulling Channing to her office speaking to him, “Not every kid reacts by crying… I hope this is a lesson for you.”

Ian stood in front of Mickey, hands gripping his jacket, heads close as Ian tried to keep Mickey focused on his face. Ian’s heart was racing, while this wasn’t something particularly interesting back home, here it was a record scratch. “Go somewhere, Ian.” John said just wanting to get the boys away from everything. Ian took the direction and pulled Mickey towards the gym. 

“Ok…” John waved his hands around, “nothing to see here, folks. Eat your lunches.” John headed to Olivia’s office and once he was there he knocked on her door. She slipped out while Channing went on about suing the school, which made Olivia role her eyes. 

“Wow…” She said to John shaking her head, “That was… intense.”

“Listen, Shea. Ian told me something important.” John began keeping his voice low. “I know we have Milkovich’s record, but there's more. His background is… abusive. From what Ian’s alluded to, his father is a raging homophobe and whether or not allegations of such things are true, I get the feeling that being labeled gay is somewhat of a death sentence.” John brought his hand up, “Now I’m not excusing the outburst, but I know you take these kids well-being very seriously and that is something you’d like to know.” Olivia nodded, she was thankful. 

“Thank you, John…” A smile then appeared on her face. “I’ve watched this kid needle and goad my program boys for years. I’ve been waiting for him to get the wind knocked out of him. His family’s company had a PR nightmare over the summer for discrimination and they paid a lot of money to restore their image. Shaw engaging in behavior like this could destroy their reputation. Milkovich has nothing to worry about, Okay? Also, thank Ian for me.”

* * *

Ian pulled Mickey into the empty gym and without saying a word slid his arms into Mickey’s jacket and around the boy pulling him close. Micky allowed it, his heart still racing and his head still foggy from the adrenaline. Ian buried his face against Mickey’s neck lightly kissing him just below his ear, “You OK?’

Mickey’s closed his eyes, enjoying the embrace. “Yeah.” He said not entirely convincingly. Ian pulled back and ran his hands over Mickey’s face, taking a moment to look him over, make sure he was still there, that nothing about Mickey was out of place. 

“I think you made Channing Shaw shit himself.” a wide grin started to spread over Ian’s face which made Mickey laugh. Ian leaned in and kissed him softly. 

They didn’t hear Joan walk in, they didn’t see her standing there as they embraced, and they didn’t hear her put Ian’s things down before leaving the gym.

* * *

That evening Ian gave Mickey one of his sleeping pills so he could get some rest. With their nightly rendezvouses and the stress from the day they figured he needed a full night’s sleep. Plus, being called a faggot when you weren’t actively having gay sex was a little different compared to when you were. As planned, Ian found himself at Taco Tuesday, feeling very disassociated from the entire thing, Joan sat next to him rubbing his shoulder now and then to keep him grounded. 

Everyone had just received their drinks, with Ian ordering a coke, when Johnny spoke up, “So I know we weren’t going to talk about it but I can’t help myself. Ian, you are a fast motherfucker.” Ian couldn’t help but smile. “Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen anyone move that quickly in my life.”

“Ian, your check is on me tonight.” Olivia said raising her class to the boy. “You prevented what could have been a very big problem for a lot of people.”

“How is he?” Andrew asked. 

“Shaw?” Olivia questioned. 

“Oh who cares about Shaw. The other kid.”

“Sleeping it off.” Ian said. “It took a lot out of him. We grew up in the same neighborhood… saying that about someone where I’m from, is… loaded. Shaw wouldn’t have known that, he just thought he was being a dick.”

“Ok, ok, I say we are finished with this conversation, let’s talk about the pool we have going about when and if Emily will ever come back from vacation.”

Ian looked at his phone knowing Mickey was passed out and wouldn’t see the text until morning. 

_Ian: I miss you tonight, but I’m happy you’re getting some sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule: I am writing Chapter 15 currently, I like to be super far ahead so that if I need to make changes to past chapters I can. This also causes my update schedule to be by whim. I'm going to start posting updates on Wednesdays. Why? Because I've noticed most fics update on the weekends and I'd like to be something that tides you over to some of those amazing stories. So expect an update next Wednesday and weekly from then on out. 
> 
> The Fates that Joan talks about are represented in this fic by three of the characters. I’d love to hear who you think is who.


	10. Jared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are getting wrapped up in their feelings now that the end of the semester is near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the three fates. Nonna=Melanie: She is a creator, of food and of people. Decuma=Joan: She is engaged in Ian’s daily life, she’s aware of the world and life around her, she made the mistake that brought Mickey to the school, and she literally guides the boys when they arrive in Chapter 2. Morta=Olivia: She is very much in control of any situation or conversation she is involved in. She always has the final say, and dictates how and when things end or do not end. She’ll become more impactful as the story goes on. 

It was safe to say that the first few months of their relationship had been nothing but excitement. Fucking for the first time, talking about their past for the first time, being discovered for the first time, it was as if each day was a new thing that was going to either bring them to life or destroy them completely. However, by the time December rolled around and snow began to fall they had fallen into a groove and a routine. They fucked nightly under the cloak of shadows and avoiding security (which luckily tended to stick to the front of the school.) They had been learning to make up for the quickness of their encounters with intimate gestures such as long, deep kisses, and forehead touches. Mickey eventually had to stop going to wrestling practice, not because of his jealousy but because of Ian’s. Peirce Cooke wasn’t letting this bad boy fantasy go, and it was getting in the way of Ian acting professionally by not slamming the kid’s face into a wall with every wink towards his boyfriend. 

As for class, Mickey was doing somewhat well, Ian helped a lot and most weekends were spent just trying to get Mickey through some assignment or worksheet. Ian was proud of his work with John, and they were finally gearing up for their first wrestling match after setting up the details for over a month. Melanie was due in only about 8 weeks and the closer that time came the more stressed John became. Taco Tuesdays and lunches with Joan were now a staple in Ian’s life, and other than the unpredictability of Terry’s whims which reminded Mickey and Ian of the reality of the world outside of their bubble, things felt good, things felt normal. 

“So how is our favorite gutter rat?” Ian heard Lip ask on the other end of the phone. 

“Fine. He’s still here, isn’t he?” Ian’s tone making it clear that he was just as surprised as Lip was. 

“You only have… what? Two weeks left before winter break… do you really think he’ll just go back to the school after he’s home?”

“No. I don’t. The moment he steps back in the Southside that’s going to be the end of it, I know it.” Ian leaned against the side of the E building smoking a cigarette as he spoke to his brother. 

“Would have been a good run, yeah?”

Ian’s stomach twisted. “Sure.”

“Still hot and heavy?”

“It’s so much worse than before.” Ian dug the heel of his head against his forehead as he thought about how much more intense their relationship was progressing. 

“How is that possible? You two were fucking like rabbits to the point that one missed blow job had you two beating the shit out of each other. Please tell me, what’s more hot and heavy than that?”

“I don’t know man.” Ian took a long drag of his cigarette. “It’s other shit. You know just… being around him makes me feel like I’m going to vomit, but like, in a good way. I know you don’t get it Lip, but he… he doesn’t smile a lot but fuck, when he does… the world lights up.”

“No man, I get it.” Lip chuckled and sighed on the other end. “I think you’re head over fucking heels for Mickey Milkovich.”

Ian was quiet, he knew, he had known, he had thought about it… a lot. “Yeah.”

“You talk about it?”

“We talk about a lot of things but… uh… would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Tell someone who was about to leave you that you loved them?”

“Good point.” Lip conceded. “Will you regret it if you don’t?”

Ian sighed. He didn’t know. What was worse? Leaning into inevitable heartbreak or leaning out?

* * *

_1 message. Mandy Fuckface._

_Mandy: I can’t believe you’re still playing student at that fucking school. Come home._

_Mickey: 🙄_

_Mandy: Job’s a dud. Dad hasn’t talked about it in weeks. Asked where you were yesterday. He’s over it, its done, he said for you to come home._

_Mickey: 🍅_

_Mandy: What aren't you telling me?_

* * *

_1 message. Mandy Milkovich._

_Mandy: Tell me, what’s up with my brother?_

_Ian: What are you talking about?_

_Mandy: He’s being weird. Quiet and stoic and WEIRD._

_Ian: He doesn’t talk to me._

_Mandy: Find him and tell him to come home._

* * *

_3 messages. Ian._

_Ian: Talk to your sister, man._

_Ian: 1 image._

Ian sent a screenshot of his exchange with Mandy. 

_Ian: Are you OK? Talk to me._

_Mickey: 🍆_

* * *

“Wrestling match this Sunday, yeah?” Mickey asked as he pulled up his pants, Ian still undone lighting a cigarette smirked. 

“Please tell me that isn’t what you were thinking about just now.”

“I don’t know man, you think of an Italian God as you’re getting fucked, you tend to think about related events.” The smile on Mickey’s face should have been framed, if only it wasn’t because he was goading Ian. 

“We literally just finished, and now you want me to kick your ass?”

“I know it’s something that’s on your mind, Ian. Besides, you couldn’t kick my ass.” Mickey took the cigarette from him and took a drag before handing it back. “Gotta stop smoking, man.” He then reached down and ran his finger along the inside of the waistband Ian’s boxers. 

“Always telling me to stop smoking while you’re smoking.”

“I’m allowed to smoke. Don’t need a long life as a Milkovich, longer sentences.” He teased tugging Ian a bit closer by his underwear. 

Ian frowned. “I hate when you say that shit, Mickey.”

“Yeah?” Mickey asked cocking an eyebrow as he leaned in kissing Ian softly. 

“You could just… not go to jail. That’s an option for some people.”

“For some people… hear there are already some P.Os. dying to get their hands on me. Would you visit me though? If I ended up in the pen?” Ian knew he was teasing him but the idea of seeing Mickey behind a plate of glass pissed him off and even just made him… sad. Ian pulled back, taking a few steps away as he smoked. 

“I’m just joking, man.” Mickey didn’t like the look on Ian’s face, stepping towards him he grabbed him by the waist, pulling him close. “Come on.” Ian relented and he kissed Mickey keeping him close.

* * *

Friday _6:32 am._

_1 message. Ian._

_Ian: Hey you up?_

_Mickey: No._

_Ian: Can you be?_

_Mickey: Why?_

_Ian: Come outside._

_Mickey: You’re insane. You workout, I sleep._

_Mickey: We know how this works._

_Mickey: Give me 5._

* * *

Mickey stepped out of the D building and rounded to the back to see Ian standing there. He was still in his early morning run wear, a cigarette in his hand, it was somewhat dark but the sun would be fully up soon. He really did smoke way too much.

“The fuck, firecrotch?” Mickey grumbled as he walked over and leaned next to Ian, stealing his cigarette to take a drag. 

“Semester’s over in 2 weeks.” Ian said, his eyes on Mickey. 

“You pulled me out of bed for a calendar update. Cool.”

Ian was quiet for a few beats before turning and pressing Mickey to the wall, trapping him between himself and the brick. Mickey noted the same _you fuck me_ look in his eyes. Mickey slid his hand from Ian’s stomach to his chest, his hand bunching the material of his shirt. 

“What do you want, Ian?” Ian’s eyes closed for a moment before meeting Mickey in a searing kiss. It was hot, deep, needy, and desperate. The same words that would have described Ian perfectly in that moment. Mickey tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips worked together, Mickey’s hand now sliding underneath Ian’s shirt. When the kiss broke Ian kept his eyes on Mickey’s, searching, for some clue that they’d still be doing this in two weeks. Mickey brought his hand up and slid it down the side of Ian’s face. The words were there, just on the tip of Ian’s tongue. 3 words. easy. _Just say it._ Instead they stood there, the two boys, stuck in between action and inaction. They stood there, against each other, wanting to say so much without being able to. Out of fear, our of intensity, and out of their young brains unable to contemplate the complexities of the warped realities they were living in. Eventually the sun came up and they heard the sounds of the school waking. It was then that they parted. 

Later in the day when it was time for Mickey to go to Phys Ed he was surprised when one of the other assistants approached him informing Mickey that he would be taking over their session for the day. _The fuck_. Mickey did the workout, all the complaining without the sexual advances from the assistant. 

* * *

_I message. Mickey Milkovich_

_Mickey: The fuck?_

_Ian: Sorry, John and I were doing extra work preparing for Sunday._

_Mickey: Could have given me a heads up_

_Ian: 🤷‍♂️_

_Mickey: 🖕_

* * *

That night they sat at the dugout, having just had a quickie against the fence. Ian’s head rested in Mickey’s lap as they sat on the ground, his fingers running through Ian’s hair. 

“This wouldn’t have happened, would it?” Ian asked

“What?”

“Us fucking. Back home. Wouldn’t have happened?”

Mickey smirked, “I don’t know about that, I have a feeling if we tried to fight just once we probably would have ended up naked.”

“You really think we’d risk it?”

“I don’t know man. If I had gotten a taste of this back then, I would have let you light my fucking life on fire.”

“Probably would have ended badly…”

“Yeah probably.”

“Still probably will.”

Mickey’s stomach twisted, “Yeah, probably.” He stroked the top of Ian’s head soothingly. It was hard to miss Ian’s mood lately, he was so sullen. “I’m gonna come to wrestling practice tomorrow.” He informed the redhead. 

“Why?”

“I want to see you in action.”

“You want to get hit on by the school whore.” Ian grumbled.

“Why was he a super-model when he had the hots for you, but now it’s me he’s a whore?”

“Because no one could be into you unless they were.” Ian teased, his eyes looking up at Mickey’s, finally some playfulness in them. 

“That makes you a whore.”

“Oh I am 100% aware of that.” Mickey leaned down catching Ian’s lips in a deep kiss that make him grip Ian just a little bit tighter.

* * *

If there was one thing Ian was worried about when it came to the wrestling match, one that would be attended by the staff, the students, students from another school, and their parents — it was his boyfriend. You can take the boy out of the Southside, but you couldn’t put Mickey Milkovich around rich people without him getting into trouble. Ian could picture it; checking car door handles, pick-pocketing coats, rich people loved to call the cops and he needed his newly 18 year old menace to stay out of prison for as long as humanly possible. It was why Sunday afternoon Mickey was surprised at the text message he received from Ian. 

_Ian: Spend the day with me, it’ll be boring, preparing for the match but there will be incentive._

_Mickey: Tell me the incentive._

_Ian: Or it can be a surprise._

_Mickey: Tell me the incentive._

_Ian: Nudes._

_Mickey: Fine._

_Ian: Come to the gym, bring stuff to study with._

_Mickey: OK daddy._

_Ian: Never call me daddy again._

Micky found himself sitting on the bleachers of the gym while Ian, the coach, and the other assistants were finishing setting up for the match. A public school a few hours away were coming to act as the opponents and overall Mickey just thought this entire thing was idiotic. Teenage boys rolling around together trying to pin each other down just seemed like the remnants of some ancient sex cult. However, Ian was happy.

John and Ian were adjusting one of the mats when the coach nodded to Mickey who looked like he was about to throw his textbook away with the angry faces he was making towards it. “What’s that about?”

“Babysitting.” Ian explained. 

“Why?”

“I’m not taking any chances today.” John would take that as an answer because he had a feeling whatever Ian meant by that he didn’t want to know. The student athletes participating came into the gym to check it out before heading back to one of the locker rooms. The boys took survey and one in particular walked up to Mickey. 

“Look who it is, here to witness my beautiful self pin some sweaty boys to the ground? Gotta be a reason you’re always here.” Pierce _fucking_ Cooke. Mickey gave him the middle finger and in response Pierce just gave him a flirty wink.

“Cooke!” It was Ian’s voice pulling the attention of the Italian God. “Meeting, you’re holding everyone up, let’s go.” Pierce rolled his eyes before walking away from Mickey. 

“Red, if you want to stake your claim so badly, just do it already.” The boy retorted before joining the others. Ian didn’t know how to react to that, or what to say, he had staked that claim, it was just a stake other people were unaware of. Luckily John spoke up. 

“I know tensions are high, we’re all nervous about the match. In front of our friends and family, we do not want to lose, so I suggest we all focus.” 

Pierce seemed to be giving Ian attitude for the rest of the pep-talk and further into the locker room. Rolling his eyes when he spoke, then refusing to take bottles of water Ian was handing out, before finally ignoring him when he called him over to do his final weigh-in to validate his weight class. Finally, Ian had enough. 

“Cooke,” He indicated for the boy to follow him and once they were out of the locker room Ian asked him, “What’s going on all of a sudden, what you’re issue with me?”

“You turned me down saying we couldn’t hook up because I’m a student.”

“Yes, everything about that is an accurate statement.” Mickey was right, this guy was thirsty and honestly, a _bit_ whiny.

“Does that not apply to grumples out there?”

“What are you talking about?” _Fuck_.

“You’re really going to tell me you’re not hooking up with Milkovich.” Ian’s whole body started to buzz but he did his best to control his reaction to the questioning. 

“I am not hooking up with _any_ student.” Ian said firmly, taking the opportunity to lean into his position as an authority figure. “If you’re referring to our interactions. I dated the guy’s sister, I keep an eye on him as a favor to her. We are friends.”

Pierce rolled his eyes at the answer he received. “You two are weird.”

Ian didn’t know what to say to this kid to appease him. “Listen. You think you want whatever it is you think you want but I promise you, you do not. I’m not a prize. I am a mentally-ill, high school dropout, definitely on a few government lists, who is destined to die in the house I grew up in. As for _grumples_ , he has questionable hygiene, is controlled by his Nazi father, and will most likely steal all your shit while you sleep. Fine tune that radar, Cooke, because right now it’s just pointing you to trouble.” Pierce signed and nodded his head. 

“I’ve always had bad taste in men.”

“Yeah… you really fucking do, man.” Pierce walked back into the locker room just as Mickey was walking out of the gym. He was bored to death, this thing hadn’t started yet, and he needed a break from homework. Finding Ian he sauntered up, a playful look in his eyes. 

“Gallagher, got a break coming up or what?” Mickey moved in resisting the urge to reach out and grab his _controlling students is sexy_ top. Ian stepped back immediately shaking his head. 

“Don’t stand so close.” he mumbled looking around, a look in his eyes making it clear what was going on. 

“Who?”

“Who do you fucking think?”

Mickey grumbled. “When are we killing that kid?”

“After he graduates.”

“Ok so… _quick_?”

“No _quick_. People are going to be arriving any minute.”

Mickey was frustrated, he was bored, had studied for an entire hour at this point, he was glued to this thing for next 3 hours minimum, and he couldn’t even get a little grab ass from Ian?

“This is the worst day of my life.” Mickey complained. 

“There is literally no way that is a true statement. I’ve seen you get shot.” 

“It was better than this.”

“And you call me dramatic.”

“You are so fucking dramatic, literally all of the time.”

“Tell me, what do I have to do to get you back in that gym, sit quietly until this whole thing is over, studying for end of semesters exams?” Mickey smiled suggestively and Ian shook his head. “Not that.”

Micky grumbled. “Fine. Will you be the one to tell Mandy that I’m not going home for the break?”

“Wait… what?” Ian froze—record scratch. What did that mean? “What are you talking about?” It was then John walked out of his office. 

“Ian, people are arriving, the opponents are here, let’s go.” John nodded towards the gym.

“Wait,” he looked at Mickey. “What are you saying?”

“Ian, we have to get moving.” John pressured. 

“We’ll talk later.” Mickey said before heading back to the gym where he knew Ian wanted him. Mickey wasn’t an idiot, he knew Ian was trying to keep him from getting into trouble. He knew that because he had been thinking of all kinds of ways to get in trouble. He had to respect Ian’s hustle. 

Ian followed John’s lead but took his phone out to shoot a quick text. 

_Ian: Why aren’t you going home? What’s going on?_

_Mickey: We’ll talk later._

_Ian: That’s never a good thing to say to someone._

_Mickey: You asked me what I wanted._

Ian looked at his phone, Mickey’s message sitting there. _What the fuck_?

“Ian?” He looked up at the sound of John’s voice, just to immediately walk directly, face first, into a wall. He hit his nose hard and blood started to pour. 

“So I guess that walking and texting thing wasn’t bullshit this whole time?” John waved over the school nurse to get Ian patched up. Ian found himself sitting in the corner of the gym while the school nurse stuffed tissue up his nose. 

“Not broken but there will be bruising.” She told him before sending him on his way. 

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: You are hotter than you were this morning._

* * *

The match went well. The obnoxiously large gym was filled with people who smelled like Chanel and Versace, match by match points were earned and scored. Mickey kept his eyes on Ian as he stood next to John. He looked so happy when they’d win a match; all smiles with his eyes lit up. Then the defeat on his face momentarily when they’d lose. He was alive and excited… Mickey could have watched him all night. Every once in a while Ian would look over at him, stupid grin on his face, he knew it was to make sure he was still there and not off hot-wiring a BMW— but he liked it nonetheless. Finally the whole thing was over and they won. They had actually won. It was clear neither John nor the assistants had expected such a thing because they began cheering and hugging each other. Mickey didn’t get the excitement, but he understood the joy on Ian’s face. He wanted to text him then, talk to him, something to connect with him in that moment. Seeing him in his element made Mickey’s heart swell. As the gym was emptying Ian ran up to Mickey, that big goofy grin on his face and the body language was clear. _I am so happy._

“We did it.” How was this boy so intoxicating?

“I saw.” The look of pride on Mickey’s face made Ian’s heart beat faster. 

The adrenaline and endorphins rushing through Ian’s body was causing a buzz that nothing could kill. “Mickey, I l—”

“Ian.” They heard John’s voice and Ian turned to see John, Olivia, and Joan walking up just as excited as he was. “We’re going out to celebrate, the team and admin. It’s on the school.” Ian hesitated a bit, he wanted to celebrate, but he was so happy that he wanted to be with Mickey. Everyone but Olivia noticed the look on Ian’s face. 

“Go, man. Celebrate. You earned it.” Mickey encouraged. 

“Ian, you did a great job with this, you deserve it.” John pressured. 

“Mickey, you should come.” Every head turned to Joan and her big smile. “Come on, Olivia told me about that essay you wrote in English about how Ernest Hemingway was probably a serial killer, and I’ve been saying that since I was in college. So, what do you say? We can discuss where we think he hid the bodies.”

“You know his man-hating mother dressed him as a girl when he was a child?” Mickey started. 

“So many well-known and infamous serial killers were dressed opposite of their gender identity by an abusive parent.” Joan agreed before the excitement kicked in and she continued. “He also was known for his description of places and things but struggled with describing people.” Joan continued. 

“He had that one rape-romance and couldn’t understand why no one liked it.” Mickey added. 

“Well, yeah, because sociopaths struggle with humanizing people.”

The three sets of eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two and Olivia leaned over to Ian. “What the hell is happening right now?”

“Ok, ok, Mickey’s coming.” John said, “Let’s get moving.” Soon the three were heading towards the gym doors, while Mickey and his now second favorite redhead continued on their discussion.

They had completely taken over the family sports restaurant 15 minutes from the school, students and administration covering every inch of the space. One table had John, Ian, Greg (another assistant), Olivia, Joan, and Mickey. It was no coincidence that John was sitting between Ian and Mickey, while Joan was on the other side of Mickey, with Olivia next to her. Joan and Mickey seemed locked in their own conversation while Olivia, John, and Greg were rehashing the night’s events. Ian’s eyes were stuck on Mickey as he chatted with Joan, laughed, and just seemed generally to be having a good time. Seeing the brunet so carefree and light was something he hadn’t ever seen before, not out in the world, around other people. He was intoxicating. 

“What do you think, Ian?” Olivia asked, and when Ian didn’t respond she spoke again, “Earth to Ian. Space cadet.”

“Huh? He asked, his gaze breaking and looking to Olivia. 

“I asked if you thought this would happen again next year?”

“What would happen?” He asked confused. 

“Jesus Christ.” John groaned, “Go get some air, Gallagher.” Ian took the advice and decided to go outside for a smoke. John didn’t know how these boys were going to survive another semester at this point. Maybe if they eloped the school couldn’t do anything about it. Melanie would love to plan that. As if clockwork five minutes later Mickey stood and John was quick. “No, sit.” Mickey looked at him oddly, confused by this pointed demand. Instead of giving him time to argue John stood up and followed Ian outside.

“Probably just overexcited from the match.” Olivia reasoned before turning her attention to Greg and his thoughts on the night’s events. 

Outside John found Ian leaning against the building, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Ever thought about quitting?”

Ian laughed. “Hear it daily.”

“From?” Ian didn’t answer and instead shuffled his feet a bit, eyes on the ground. “It’s going well, I take it.”

Ian nodded his head, pulling his cigarette from his lips and exhaling. “Can we even talk about this?”

“No.”

“Then why are we?” Ian asked, his eyes coming up to meet John’s. “Going to tell me to end it? To meet a bookstore owner or a nice accountant. Someone safe and boring.”

“No. But I will ask one thing. This is a real question, something to think about. This trajectory you’re on. Doing well here, changing the course of your life, everything you’ve worked hard for… are you willing to throw it away?”

Ian didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

John nodded. “Then do what you have to do. Just do it as carefully as possible.”

“Whatever that means. ” Ian stressfully ran a hand over his face before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the building. “What if nothing ever feels this right again?”

“It might happen again… or it might not. Just make sure that whatever choices you make, you don’t end up resenting him for it.”

Ian nodded, quiet for a moment before looking to John. “Why are you so… helpful?”

John smiled, “I’ve been where you are. So desperately in love. To grow, to change, to… evolve. If I were with a lesser woman I easily could have turned my life upside down figuring it all out. Instead she grew with me, evolved with me… that doesn’t always happen. So if you are going to take risks, just make sure the person by your side is willing to take them with you. Make mistakes, just make them together. Now get back inside before someone follows you out here. Last thing we need are these students seeing you.”

* * *

_1 message. Ian_

_Ian: Hey_

Mickey looked across the table, momentarily interrupting his conversation with Joan to catch Ian’s eye.

_Mickey: That goofy fucking smile._

* * *

Later all the students and live-in staff were dropped back off at the academy, everyone heading to their appropriate buildings, curfew lifted for the evening. Both Ian and Mickey tried to pull themselves away to their normal spots but with everyone else around it was too risky. So, unhappily, they went to their appropriate rooms. They still needed to talk about what Mickey meant when he said he wasn’t going home for break. Did that mean he was going to continue on with a final semester? Did it mean he was going to run off elsewhere? Or did he have something else up his sleeve and he planned to dropout after the semester started. Ian had a lot of questions that he desperately needed answered. 

_1 message. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: I’m happy you won._

Ian smiled as he took the elevator to the fourth floor. 

_Ian: I’m happy you and Joan got along so well._

_Mickey: Maybe I have a thing for red hair, who knew?_

Ian walked to his door and swiping his key walked in as he usually did before sitting on the edge of his bed. 

_Ian: Stay away from my sister, then._

_Mickey: What? Don’t want any Gallagher Milkovich offspring running around?_

_Ian: Still could happen, Lip and Mandy, remember?_

_Mickey: Lip doesn’t have red hair._

Ian sat down his phone to dip into the small bathroom before hopping in for a quick shower. It was when he walked out that he noticed a note on Jared, his phantom roommate’s bed. Ian picked it up. 

_Hey Ian - Wanted to give you a head’s up. I’m finished at the academy for the semester, and have headed home for break. I’ll be back about 2 weeks before next semester to start help with billing. Maybe we’ll meet up next time? Also, you’re new, so you may not know. The school will replace towels, bedding, and other items that are provided before next semester. So if you need to use anything that’s on my side before then, feel free. It’ll be replaced before I get back._

_Your overworked and very tired roommate - Jared_

Ian reread the note a few times as a smile spread over his face. Holy shit. 

_Ian: I have my room to myself for a month._

_Ian: Get your roommates to cover for you._

_Ian: Your ass is mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Mickey’s bigger themes in this story is that of action and inaction. The idea that you can either step in and intervene when you see where something is headed, or you don’t step in, and just let it happen. Mickey in this story is the epitome of inaction. Him doing the job for his father, while simultaneously doing school work makes no sense, but he’s simply working the path that is chosen for him. By not making a choice he relinquishes responsibility of his life (we’ll see him use this as a coping technique later), even if it isn’t logical or what he wants. As someone who has had his life dictated for him by his father, he really only knows inaction, action for him has always been punished. This causes conflict within him when he’s faced with wanting something that doesn’t coincide with that path that he’s headed down. I’m bringing this up because this is the chapter where we finally see him switch over to action, and I’m just proud of him for it. I wrote all that to tell you that I am proud of Mickey. You are gems if you read it. 
> 
> Fun fact: I emphasize the work quick in conversations between Ian and Mickey because of the fact they’ve yet to be able to engage in anything not “quick”. The word for them takes on a different understanding. It holds more weight. From their perspective, they use it when they know they are asking for some physical intimacy that they shouldn’t be asking for, and are reconciling the ask with the notion that it’s just a small, little, and -quick-. 


	11. Ian Gallagher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A commitment is finally made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. I have no friends :)

Monday was the longest day of Ian’s life. Every minute ticked on, a reminder of how much longer it would be until he finally had Mickey Milkovich alone in a private room with a lock and a bed. They had been fucking for months now and the fact Ian still hadn’t seen the boy fully naked was a travesty. He was also worried that he had ultimately fallen for the guy without the ability to lock himself away with him, would a fully naked Mickey cause him to explode? He had resisted texting Mickey that day, he knew once that started the wait would be unbearable. It was lunchtime when the texting began. 

_1:34pm 1 message. Mickey Milkovich_

_Mickey: What do I need to bring?_

_Ian: Just bring all your shit. I don’t know when I’ll let you out of that room._

_Ian: Bring the blazer… would be sexy._

_Mickey: Fuck no. That thing got shoved under the bed when I got here and under the bed it will die._

_Ian: Come on._

_Mickey: Wanna pretend I’m one of these fucks?_

_Ian:… ok now that I think about it, fuck the blazer._

* * *

_3:12pm 1 message. Ian_

_Ian: I’m going to ruin you._

_Mickey: Big talk._

* * *

_4:48pm 1 message. Mickey Milkovich_

_Mickey: Let’s reschedule for tomorrow night._

_Ian: Fuck you._

* * *

_6:19pm 1 message. Ian_

_Ian: How has this day been the longest day of my life?_

_Mickey: Sex that good, huh?_

_Ian: What can I say? The guy is 🔥_

_Mickey: Do I know him?_

_Mickey: If you say Cooke I’m murdering you._

_Mickey: 🔪_

* * *

_7:45pm 1 message. Ian._

_Ian: If you’re late I’m breaking up with you._

* * *

8pm on the dot Ian walked up to the dugout to find Mickey was there, duffle by his feet, half-smoked cigarette between his lips. “Playing it close, Gallagher.” he teased with a smile before tossing his smoke and pulling the redhead to him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss, Mickey’s hand twisting into Ian’s shirt. 

“I didn’t see any staff on my way here and everything appears pretty quiet.” Ian said as the kiss broke. “We just have to get to the 4th floor with no one seeing you and we are golden.” Ian’s hands slid up and down Mickey’s hips. 

“How many elevators?” Mickey questioned.

“Two.” 

Mickey groaned in response. Two meant a higher likelihood that someone else would be on one. “Staircase?”

“Yeah.” They were not taking the stairs. 

“Less likely to run into anyone.” Mickey said catching onto his tone.

“It’s the fourth floor.” Ian reasoned. 

“I told you to stop smoking so much.”

“We’ll risk the elevator, I almost never see anyone at this time using it. Besides, I need you to reserve all of your energy.” Mickey was going to argue but what could he really say? He just wanted to get Ian in a private space and let them destroy each other. 

Sure enough Ian was right, the two went to the F building, walked right in, and went up to the fourth floor without running into anyone. He wasn’t sure how they were going to pull this off night after night. Once they were to the fourth floor Ian’s door was the first on the right, and swiping his key card, they walked in. 

“Bullshit, you have your own bathroom? We share per floor.” Mickey grumbled tossing his bag down, he then noticed the two single beds that were pushed together and he smirked. “And you claim you didn’t know your roommate.” Ian didn’t hesitate to push Mickey up against the door, quieting him with his lips, his hands resting on the boy’s hips. 

“Shut up. Get naked.” Ian said forcefully, stepping back to begin undressing himself. Mickey liked forceful and dominating Ian, it made his blood rush straight to his cock. He did as he was told, his eyes locked on Ian’s hands as he undressed himself. Mickey watched each and every move as if it were his own, personal, erotic entertainment, knowing he was under the same scrutiny. He knew Ian was hot, everyone knew Ian was hot. He had seen most of Ian by this point, piece by piece, but seeing him there, fully naked, was overwhelmingly sexy. 

Ian felt cocky and electric, Mickey was there, in his private room and he had no clothes on. **_Mission B: See Mickey Naked. Complete_**. Fuck if it wasn’t everything he had imagined. Sure he had seen his ass and his dick but this, the complete picture was different and it was perfect. The two boys were on each other before either of them could blink. Mouths together, limbs entangled, and it didn’t take long for Mickey to be on all fours on the pushed together beds. Ian, kneeling behind him, wasted no time pushing into him. Fuck, they were supposed to be slow and deliberate, but it was hard maintaining self control. Despite the fact it was their standard position and they weren’t taking things slow, this was still different. They were in a bed. They weren’t rushing for release in fear of being caught, _fuck_ this was so much better.

“Oh god,” Mickey breathed as he leaned up a bit pressing his back to Ian’s chest as they moved together, one of his hands running over Ian’s which were currently gripping his hips. “Don’t stop.” He begged the redhead, as he resumed his previous position. Ian held onto Mickey harder, his fingers digging into the skin as he worked into him, getting them to where they needed to be, but finally on their own terms. They had time for long and slow but for now they just needed to know what was familiar.

* * *

Mickey laid satisfied in the makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling, with Ian laying on his chest, his fingers moving up and down the redhead’s back. They were never able to do this; bask in their post-coital glow. Part of Mickey was thankful because if he knew so early it would feel this right and normal with Ian, he would have panicked more than he had. He was already ruined for the rest of his life thanks to this guy.

“Thank god we didn’t figure this shit out when we were kids, man. I don’t know if the Southside would have survived it, or if we would of.” Mickey lamented as he ran his fingertips over Ian’s skin. Ian was listening to Mickey’s heartbeat, lulling him into a meditative state, he was in deep. Ian turned his head and kissed the man’s chest, not bothering to move elsewhere, and laid his head back down. 

“I’d like to think we’d be in this long hidden, secret affair. Fucking in the shadows, coping feels beneath the bleachers…”

“Or we’d just murder/suicide it, realizing we’re fucked.”

Ian laughed. “Sure… that’s an option. Mine’s better though.”

“We’d get caught for sure.”

“Probably… eventually.” Ian sighed. There was a beat. “So we never talked about you not going home. What does that even mean exactly?” he rested his chin on Mickey’s chest, looking up at him. 

“I meant I’m not going home for break. I’m going to stick here, it’s an option, you know? I’ll stay here, see what happens next semester.” Ian took this in. This was… good, right? He wanted to stay, get his diploma? It meant Ian wasn’t going to lose him in 2 weeks. 

“Why?” Ian couldn’t help but ask. For school? To avoid his dad? To avoid the Southside? For Ian? Mickey was quiet, the brunet knew why, he didn’t know how to verbalize it, how to say it to Ian without looking weak and too vulnerable. Mickey couldn’t tell Ian that it was because this thing with him felt too good, that he was afraid that if he went back, his father would swallow him back up into the machine, and that this would all be over. He’d lose Ian and he’d lose this part of himself that made him feel like a whole person.

Ian reached up and slid his hand over the side of Mickey’s face. “Tell me why, Mickey.” But he didn’t, Mickey couldn’t, he didn’t know how to say it. So instead his blue eyes met Ian’s green ones and he kept his eyes locked on him. Ian knew at this point he had pushed too far, and to let the brunet off the hook, he leaned up and kissed him softly. Ian crawled up his body and settled between his thighs, he continued to kiss him, deepening and intensifying. Mickey practically melted into the bed beneath him, his hands sliding up to cradle Ian’s head, their bodies responding the way any two, naked, young lovers would. Ian let his head drop to kiss and bite at Mickey’s neck, he was obsessed with his neck, and his scent, and literally any ounce of him he could get. Reaching over Ian grabbed for a fresh condom and expertly slid it on, his tongue continued to tease Mickey’s sensitive spots distracting the boy. Ian lubed up and began positioning himself, he pressed his dick to Mickey’s opening when the boy pulled back a bit. 

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Mickey stiffened up, and not in the way Ian was expecting. Ian looked at Mickey a bit confused, his eyes trying to analyze the startled expression. 

“I figured we’d go again?” Ian was unsure of why he was explaining this to the guy he has been regularly fucking for months now. 

“Like this?” 

Ian looked around a bit, what was he missing here? It was then it dawned on him, Mickey has only ever fucked bent over. “Face to face too weird?” Ian asked really hoping it wasn’t because he has been craving this for quite a while now. “We don’t have to.”

“Oh no, I mean _yes_.. I…” Ian smiled at how flustered Mickey was and he grabbed a pillow and encouraged Mickey to lift his hips up a bit for him to prop him up. 

“Let’s try it, if it’s weird, we can stop, ok?” Mickey nodded agreeably before kissing Ian again. He kept a firm grip on the man’s neck as Ian pushed into him slowly, eliciting a groan from both of them, forcing the kiss to break. Ian moved his hips slowly, his strokes slow and deliberate, his eyes focused on Mickey’s face. His eyes, his lips, his eyebrows… Ian began to study and memorize how he moved his hips in comparison to what emotion flickered on Mickey’s face. Mickey wasn’t sure what to think, Ian was so close to him, he could feel his breath on his face, his lips were only an inch or two away, their bodies touching at so many points. It intimate and he felt exposed and vulnerable, it made his stomach twist in a good way. It was new, and weird, and different, but Mickey liked the thrill it sent through him. He had never felt this way before. It didn’t take long for Ian to start honing in on what certain spots that made Mickey’s face contort, and feeling victorious when he mastered it. 

“Ian…” Mickey mumbled as Ian focused on a certain spot on Mickey’s collar bone that seemed to drive him crazy. He smiled proudly as he rested on an elbow and reaching down he took Mickey’s erection into his hand. Mickey’s eyes kept on Ian, how was this god of a man on top of him? Ian had sweat on his brow, fire in his eyes, and red flush over his face as their bodies worked in a happy rhythm. Mickey’s eyes searched Ian’s face for some evidence that he was real, proof that he wasn’t hallucinating this man. Ian seemed content, pleased, and determined as he worked Mickey’s body like he owned it, which at this point he did. It didn’t take long for the boys to reach their ends. Both of their eyes finding each other’s, making a point to keep focused on one another as their bodies tightened, flinched, and writhed. 

“Mickey… fuck..” Ian breathed out, his eyes on the brunet’s almost beggingly, as if he was worried something would stop them from finishing. Mickey tried to smirk cockily, but a jolt of sensation rushed through him and his eyes fluttered shut, his face screwing in pleasure as he was close. 

“Christ, Ian...” Mickey groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, his nails digging into Ian’s back as the pressure intensified. Ian buried his face against Mickey’s neck as they moved just a bit faster. Ian knew Mickey was almost there, so taking all the will power he could muster he raised his head to look at the boy’s face again, he didn’t want to miss anything. It didn’t take long for Mickey to come, his eyes closing and face screwing as he did, and Ian took in every moment of it, before soon following. The two slowed, riding out the waves of their orgasm together. They stayed in their position for a few minutes, breathing deeply and rapidly as they collected themselves. Mickey was the first to move, bringing his hand up to the back of Ian’s head stroking his hair softly. “Fuck.”

“Not bad, huh?” Ian asked, a goofy grin spreading over his face.

* * *

Ian was obsessed with memorizing every inch of Mickey’s body and he was not hiding this new hobby. Mickey had fallen asleep after closing his eyes, claiming it would be just for a moment, and Ian was looming over him like he was an incubus. Every tattoo, every scar, every mark on his body, Ian felt the need to explore with his tongue or his fingers. It had started with the tattoos, Ian had dragged his fingertip lazily over each one, tracing the infamous f-u-c-k-u-u-p carefully. Then he went in on the scars. There was a small, long, thin one just at the base of Mickey’s throat and Ian couldn’t help to run his tongue over it. Then, when Ian had found the scar on his thigh from the Kash and Grab shooting, Mickey stirred awake. 

“Gallagher.” He grumbled, finding Ian’s tongue so close to his cock hard to ignore. 

“There should be songs written about this thigh.” Ian mumbled, his lips against Mickey’s skin. Mickey smiled, of course Ian would find a bullet wound romantic. 

“You’ll get sick of it soon.” Mickey teased. 

“Doubt it, unless you have other scars directly related to how hot you think I am.” Ian crawled up his body, his lips finding Mickey’s. 

* * *

It was later into the night, the two boys exhausted from their ongoing activities but unable to call it quits. It was too intoxicating, this new privacy, this new layer of their physical relationship. They both had to be up in the morning, but that didn’t seem to be a thought in either of their heads. Nothing existed outside of the room they were in. Laying on their sides, Mickey facing away from Ian, the two fucked slowly and lazily, Ian spooning Mickey. Legs entangled, hips moving slowly, the two basked in their ability to just be. No rushing, no pressure, just the two of them. Ian was happy to finally have an opportunity to wrap his arms around Mickey, and while he wouldn’t admit it, Mickey was eager for it as well.

* * *

It was the siren of Ian’s alarm clock that startled the redhead awake. Groaning he freed one of his arms from the grip to which Mickey held them, so he could hit the button on his phone and turn the alarm off. He had awoken with his arms wrapped securely around Mickey’s sleeping body, the brunet holding him there for dear life, the idea of removing himself from this felt idiotic. 6am, time to take his meds and go for a run. _Fuck runs._ Instead Ian buried his nose against the back of Mickey’s neck, taking in his scent and the feel of his body against his. How was something so simple, so perfect? Ian began to kiss and nip at the boy’s skin.

“Mickey are you awake?” He knew he wasn’t. Ian only got a grumble in response. “Want to fuck?” He heard Mickey’s breathing shift and a sleepy _Mhmmm_ followed. “Do you want to wake up for it?” Nothing but a grunt in response and Ian knew it was a lost cause. So instead, he took this as an opportunity to lightly grope the boy. His lips trailed from the back of Mickey’s neck to his shoulder as his hands slid down over his thighs. He’d feel Mickey stir every once in a while but it was when Ian heard a jumbled “ _I love you_ ” from Mickey that he froze his movements. For a split second Ian questioned what he heard, his heart beating faster, his eyes closing for a moment to replay it in his head. 

“Mick?” Ian asked testing if the guy was awake, but he got no response. Ian pulled away a bit, maybe he did need to go for that run. It was all he could think about as he ran his normal route around the campus, he replayed the sleepy declaration over and over again trying to construe the words into something else but he had heard them clear enough. When he got back to the room Mickey was still asleep and Ian began getting ready to head to the gym. Once he was showered and fully dressed Ian leaned over Mickey’s sleeping form and slid his fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“Mick… you got class in an hour.” This earned him a smile and before he knew it a drowsy Milkovich was grabbing Ian and pulling him down onto the bed and kissing him. Ian melted against him instantly, returning the sleepy kiss. “Sleep well?” Ian asked as he nuzzled against the brunet. 

“Wore me out, Gallagher.”

“Get used to it.” Ian said as he pulled away, “Get to class. Don’t be late.” He gave the guy a slap on the thigh.

* * *

Mickey sat in his English class trying his best to listen to the teacher drone on about another writer or book or whatever, and frankly he didn’t care. All he could think about was Ian and the night they spent together. This whole thing felt good, almost too good. He was waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop, for something to come and snatch this all away. People like him didn’t deserve to wake up wrapped up in the person they cared about. 

“In _Les Misérables,_ Victor Hugo has a refreshing take on the theme of love. While writers like Emily Bronte feel love is fleeting, Huge suggests that it changes who we are.” The teacher droned on. “Hugo asserts that love and compassion are gifts that one person gives to another. That love is a constant exchange, not a stagnant emotion that either exists or doesn’t. Valjean’s transformation is a wonderful example of this. From a hate-filled and hardened criminal into a well-respected philanthropist epitomizes Hugo’s emphasis on love. By learning to love others Valjean is able to evolve.” Mickey didn’t really understand these plays or stories that they kept reading, they were always just so damn dramatic and unrealistic in his eyes. “While Valjean caring for others inevitably cause him problems, he also earns a sense of happiness and fulfillment that he has never before felt.”

* * *

_1 message. Ian Gallagher._

_Ian: Mandy, Mickey isn’t going back home for break. He’s staying on campus._

_Mandy: What the fuck?_

_Mandy: 😠_

_Mandy: Are you fucking kidding me? Why?_

_Ian: Lost a bet, I had to tell you._

_Mandy: He can’t just not come home, dad’s going to rip him a new one. He told him to come home._

This was news to Ian.

_Mandy: I don’t want to spend a shitty holiday here without him._

_Mandy: Change his mind. Dad’s going to kill him._

_Ian: I’ll talk to him._

* * *

Ian sat in the courtyard, lunch in front of him waiting for Joan as he texted Mandy. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Ian slid his hands over his face, it was in this moment he was able to understand more of the trapped feeling he saw on Mickey’s face over the past few months. There was no win here. If Mickey went home they both knew he wouldn’t come back. No Ian, no possible diploma, or autonomy. If he didn’t go back, he was passively betraying his family, and the punishment for that, Ian could only guess, was intense. However, he wasn’t going to talk to Mickey. If Ian felt this stuck by the situation, he could only imagine how much more intensified that feeling was for Mickey, and if he had made a choice, Ian wasn’t going to be the one to question him. 

“Hey, honeybee.” Joan said cheerily as she walked up and took her normal seat next to Ian. “You look stressed.”

“Family stuff.” Ian sighed as he put his phone down. 

“Holidays tend to bring that type of stress, huh?” She popped open her lunch box and pulled out a sandwich and a bag of carrots. 

Ian only nodded. “It’ll work out.”

“It has to.” Joan smiled gently before popping a carrot into her mouth. 

“Have you dated a lot?” Ian asked out of nowhere and Joan groaned a bit before shaking her head. 

“Not really, I’ve dated like… 2 people total. Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Ian didn’t know where to begin. “The person I’m seeing… said _I love you_ …” Joan’s face lit up. “But they might have been asleep.” Her face fell. 

“Oh…”

“Does that… count? I mean what do you do with that?” Ian grabbed his coffee and took a sip waiting for some pearls of wisdom from his friend. 

“Shit…” Joan sighed. “I mean… that’s a hard one. The words still made their way into the universe, right? But not with intention. I guess it’s kind of like whatever you say during sex doesn’t really count… you aren’t in control of your brain in that moment. I guess sleep is the same way… but if it’s just between you and me? I’m happy for you.” Joan gave him a shoulder bump. 

Ian smiled happily. “This guy is going to ruin my life.”

“And from ruins great things are built.” Joan looked at Ian for a moment, she knew who this was about, and she was really happy for the two boys. “Tacos tonight?”

 _Ah shit._ He had forgotten about Taco Tuesday. _Fuck_. “Yeah, totally.”

* * *

_1 message. Ian._

_Ian: Have staff dinner thing tonight, I’ll let you up to my room before I go. I should be back normal time._

_Mickey: Not your keeper, man._

_Ian: Want me to bring you back food?_

_Mickey: Yes._

* * *

Ian sat next to Joan as usual as Taco Tuesday commenced, margaritas and Mexican food littered the table as the professionals talked about the final weeks of the semester. 

“Here’s to our second to final Taco Tuesday of the semester.” With _woots_ the table cheered. “And to our two newbies.” Olivia lifted her glass to Ian and Joan. “May you dare to come back next semester.” She said jokingly. 

“And to Olivia…” Cara began. “Who has the hardest job of us all… please tell us that federal funding will still be in tact…” Olivia smirked and nodded. 

“All 5 of my boys seem to be making it through just fine, some better than others. As long as no one completely bombs any final exam we should be good.”

“How’s Milkovich doing?” Ian couldn’t help but ask and Joan’s eyes flickered over to him briefly. 

“Well. He does the work… no matter how opposed he seems to be.” Olivia said with a shrug before turning to Annie. “He seems to do well in your class.”

“He’s not the best writer in terms of technicality. Grammar, spelling, all of that, but he has a natural knack for expression. He’s very good at weaving words in a way that gets his point across in an oddly… I hate to say it.. but poetic kind of way. Of course as poetic as he can be.”

_“Why are you so…”_

_“Perfect?” Mickey smirked._

_“Hardly. More like infuriating. Why can’t you just say what you want to say?”_

_“What are you talking about, man? I always say exactly what I want to say?”_

_“Yeah sure, this weird thug poetry you rattle out but…”_

_“So you think I’m poetic.”_

Ian couldn’t help but smile at the memory, and it triggered him to pull his phone out as the staff began talking about the other 4 boys from Mickey’s group. 

_3 messages. Mickey Milkovich._

_Mickey: This was a mistake. I’m going through all of your shit._

_Mickey: I’m also going to rob you._

_Mickey: See ya later, sucker._

_Ian: Miss you too._

As Taco Tuesday wrapped up and the waitress brought him his to-go order the group paid. Ian and Joan were heading back to the school when he sent the text to his family’s group chat. 

_Ian: Not coming home for break, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to all of you._

Sure enough it only took seconds for his phone to erupt. 

_Fiona: What the fuck, Ian?!_

_Carl: Cool_

_Debbie: What? Whose going to make gingerbread cookies with me?_

_Carl: I will_

_Debbie: Fuck you, Carl_

_Lip: Of course._

_Fiona: Ian, the fuck? You better be joking. We’ve never missed a Christmas._

Ian put his phone down and mindlessly chatted with Joan, but it was when he was dropped off did his phone ring. _Lip_. With a groan Ian answered. 

“Mandy told me about Mickey. Really breaking your sisters’ hearts over some dick?” Lip asked the moment Ian picked up. 

“Not like that.” Ian said as he walked through the campus. 

“Then tell me what it’s like.” Lip challenged, but Ian couldn’t. He couldn’t explain everything that was happening, all the loaded emotion and complexities of freedom that were behind every move he and Mickey were making.

“Can’t you just trust me when I tell you this is the right thing for me to do?” 

“No.” Lip said simply. “Because I don’t think you’re thinking straight, Ian. What the fuck are you doing? For Mickey _fucking_ Milkovich of all people.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I think I do know. Risking your job, and now abandoning your fam—”

“Abandoning? Jesus fucking Christ, turn it down a notch, will you? One missed holiday—”

“Means a lot to them.” Lip finished. “What do you really think is going to happen to Mickey, huh? Really think about it. We all grew up in this neighborhood, Ian. We know what that family is fucking like. Gallaghers value loyalty but the fucking Milkovichs? If he pulls a stunt like this imagine what they’ll do… and that’s without the ass-fucking part of it.” Ian hated Lip for everything he was saying, no matter how correct he was. “One act of rebellion leads to more. Hope you have a suit picked out for the funeral, man.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck me and my reality check, right? It’s easy when you’re far away from the consequences of your actions, Ian. But you’re making this worse for him and you know it. If you care about him, you’ll put the rat back in the gutter where he belongs and get your life back to normal. I love you man, I do, and you know I support anything you do. So if you choose this, and you tell me it’ll magically work out for you both. I’ll help hide the bodies. But make sure he’s worth your future, and make sure you’re worth his life.”

What Ian didn’t know, was that across the campus Mickey sat in Ian’s room, an irate sister on the phone. 

“What the fuck is going on, Mickey!?” Mandy demanded through the phone. “First you’re not coming home and now Ian? What the fuck is he doing? You’re really going to do this? Dad’s going to flip his fucking shit. Remember the last time you tried this independent shit? Stop whatever you’re doing and come back.” _Ian?_ Mickey ran a hand over his face, he hated this. 

“Mandy… I can’t…” He breathed out a sigh. “I can’t belong to him forever. You can’t either…” There was a beat. 

“So you’re what? You’re running? To where? With what? You have nothing, Mickey. No money, no connections, nothing…”

“I’ll come back when I’m done, ok. Let me see this thing through, let me try to make our lives better—”

“So the straight and narrow? Bullshit. You’re a Milkovich. A diploma doesn’t change what's in our blood. Dad won’t live forever, right? Can’t we just not stir the pot while he’s here and on our backs?”

“That’s the life you want to live? Bouncing from couch to couch so dad doesn’t use you like an object?” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. 

“Fuck you.” Her words like venom. “Fuck. You. You forget I was the one who begged him not to slit your throat when you were 13? I took a lot from him to save you from it, because he always was so much more brutal on you. I fucking hate you.” Mickey closed his eyes. 

“Mandy, I— stay with the Gallaghers… I’m not going to leave you there, ok? I’m not going to run off leaving you behind. Give me a chance.”

“Tell Ian to come home and get off the dick he’s on. His family is pissed.” She said before hanging up the phone. 

It was then Ian walked through the door looking just as stressed as Mickey felt and the two just looked at each other for a moment before Ian put Mickey’s take out box down.

“Long day?” Mickey asked with a snort. 

“Long day.” Ian confirmed before walking over and sliding his hands around Mickey’s waist tugging him close. 

“Hear you’re not going home.”

“That got around quickly.” Ian said, annoyed at how even hours away news moved so quickly. 

“Does that surprise you?” Mickey slid his hand up to the back of Ian’s neck, “You don’t have to stay… if it’s because of me….”

“I’m staying because I want to.” Mickey tugged on Ian’s neck until their foreheads touched. There was too much to say, too much to explain. Was Ian worth Mickey’s life? Was Mickey worth Ian’s future? Did Mickey really want to risk family wrath on this? Did he want to commit to stay here and see this year through? What would he do after? What would Ian do after? Too many questions, concerns, thoughts… so Ian just asked one question.

“We’re in this together, right?”

Mickey’s stomach tightened, Ian seemed to know exactly what was racing through his mind, how was he so good at that?

“Yeah.”

It was later that night, after Mickey had passed out, and Ian was on the verge of sleep when he texted Lip. 

_Ian: Be prepared to hide the bodies._

_Lip: You got it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working on the final chapter of this story. I have to say, this is the first big fic I've ever written and it's really taught me a lot. I cannot wait to take all that I've learned and start on something new. Also prepare yourself for a few nice fluffy chapters... before... you know... the shit hits the fan. But my tags are accurate, this is an overall fluff.


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